Tales from the Otherside
by animegus farmus
Summary: Elmer Gulch's life was calm, peaceful, maybe occasionally boring, then someone went and dropped an amnesiac, mischievous princess on a poor, unsuspecting small town that never did anything to deserve it... A Gulch Verse prequel to the miniseries.
1. Bullpen

_Disclaimer: Yoooou shall watch the spinning object, give to me the ownership of Tin Man, yes you shall..._

_Author's Note: So, it occurred to me some months ago – about the time I disappeared for a week or two in the middle of writing 'The Courting of Officer Gulch' – that I keep mentioning these Tales From the Otherside that DG and Gulch are always telling, maybe I should, you know, write some. Naturally I tried to kill the idea on sight, alas and woe, however, it was tougher than it looked and kinda kept growing. I've been looking forward to it for a while now – was going to wait but schedule says now's the time. Oh, and just so you are warned, I endeavoured to do something radical like actually planning a story before I begin it so I can tell you now that there are going to be fifteen chapters, with or without epilogue, that's it, that's all. And I mean it this time. Yup, I do. Also, humour is not supposed to be the main focus of this one, though I'm sure it will sneak in anyhow, it always does. Gulch is doing half the narrating after all._

_PS Mathematics says that DG was five when she went to the Otherside, so that's what I'm going with._

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...

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Elmer Gulch was bored, he was beyond bored, he was approaching mind-numbing, exceedingly bored, or even shoot-myself-in-the-foot-just-to-make-life-interesting bored. He was also wishing his thesaurus held words better suited to describing his boredom so that he could do more then add adverbs to the word bored in order to describe how utterly bored he was. Tossing the book into the passenger seat of the old cruiser, the young cop thumped his head down onto the steering wheel and groaned. Bloody hell, he was bored.

A moment later he raised his head reluctantly to peer determinedly down the road in search of speeders – no one was coming, the ever punctual Carter had already been by this morning, but it was his job and he was going to do it right by thunder. Gulches, his father was fond of saying, do not shirk their duties. Who knew one could grow so accustomed – and bored – with their profession in so short a time? Of course, this probably wouldn't have been the case if he hadn't been assigned to his tiny home town right off the bat so that he could help out on the family farm. It wasn't the best situation for training a new police officer, but his father's health wasn't what it used to be and even with all the will in the world to do so, his mother couldn't pick up the slack on her own. Least not without killing herself in the process.

There wasn't a hell of a lot of variation to policing a farming community – he'd been on the job for less than half a year and already the routine was beginning to pall. The hardest part of his job was making people used to seeing him as 'the Gulch kid' respect him as an authority figure. So far the only headway he'd made was with the elder population, who were doing him the courtesy of at least allowing him the pretence, while the younger generation – his peers not so long ago – had taken to calling him Officer Fudd. Everyone knew where he parked to set up his radar – he tried to mix it up a little but, darn it, there were only so many places to park that there actually was traffic – and the only thing he got real practice at was breaking up bar fights. He was utterly sick of donuts and the only distraction he'd had of late had been the wild goose chase in the form of a supposed sighting of a missing person, one Alfred Horatio Addlebert Mortimer Ogilvie, who's parents obviously had never liked him nor been afraid to show it.

The case file had been interesting, Elmer mused as he put the cruiser in gear to change locations, but the likelihood of a man from Nebraska who'd been missing for well over a decade now showing up in the middle of nowhere Kansas was not great. Sure, the annual rodeo had brought a whole swarm of strangers into the tight-knit community, but even if the carnie _had_ shown up he wouldn't have been able to hang around without notice. A new face in this town stuck out like a...like a little girl in a red dress leaping off a fence onto the back of Hannibal, Farmer Spencer's ill-tempered, ornery old bull.

Elmer Gulch was suddenly no longer bored.

Tires screeched to a halt as the farm boy turned cop slammed on the breaks, ripped off his seatbelt, wrenched open the door and flung himself out of the cruiser, leaving it stalled haphazardly across the highway. That was moderately dangerous but Mrs. Middlebury wasn't due to pass by for an hour yet and dammit he didn't have _time_ for proper parking. Planting a hand on the nearest fencepost in an attempt to vault, the cop heard, and accepted, the inevitable ripping of fabric that comes of trying to take a barbwire fence at speed. He even managed to turn his tripped up landing into a credible roll, as for what he landed in, well, that was the advantage of living with your parents – there were mothers to deal with the laundry. Before he'd even finished the thought, the young policeman was back on his feet and sprinting across the pasture towards the wood fenced watering bowl where Hannibal was having the predictable response to small annoying beings dropping out of the sky onto his back. It was a miracle the kid was still holding on.

Elmer hit the corral fence just as the bull heaved in a powerful buck, unseating his small passenger at last, sending the child hurtling into the air. Flying over the railing with accustomed – if slightly more frantic – ease, the cop threw himself forward to intercept the girl's trajectory before skidding into a sliding catch that would have made his erstwhile baseball coach proud. Air whooshed out of his lungs as her knees sank into his gut, but as far as he could tell the girl was uninjured. The policeman spent half a second rejoicing over this fact as he gasped for breath then his luck ran out and he heard the unmistakable sound of a hoof being dragged repeatedly in the dirt. It was a thing cattle liked to do before they charged something or someone.

Not too long ago, Spencer had enlisted the help of his good friend's son in moving the bull between pastures; it had been a long and arduous task as Hannibal hadn't seemed to care that they were trying to move him in with some nice young cows. No, he'd only focused on how much he didn't like trailers; seemed to Elmer in that moment that the contrary old bull was holding a bit of a grudge. Deciding that reminding his lungs how to breathe wasn't a priority at the moment, the cop scrambled to his feet, hauling the girl with him. And then came the sound of pounding hooves...

"Run!" Elmer yelled to the kid, shoving her in the direction of the nearest fence line, "Get out of here," he ordered, dodging left and away, glancing over his shoulder to see if he'd managed to take the bull with him.

Yup.

It wasn't just fabric ripping this time as the bull rammed into him, a horn catching him in the seat of his pants and tearing its way towards his spine as Hannibal hefted the cop into the air with a mighty toss of his head. _Ever the pain in the ass_, the farm boy grunted internally as he was launched across the pen. Plus side was that the bull had actually managed to throw him clear, well mostly, as the cop clipped the top board of the fence, somersaulting through the air only to land with a jarring thud on his back outside of the enclosure.

Elmer Gulch groaned and opted to lie there a moment. "Rectum nothing, it damned near killed him," he muttered once he'd caught his breath again.

"What?" a little voice chirped from somewhere nearby.

Opening his eyes reluctantly, the cop looked up to meet the innocent, wide blue-eyed gaze of the small girl leaning over him. "Nothing," he mumbled, "You okay?"

Smiling merrily in response, the child inquired curiously, "You a clown?"

"Eh?"

"You made the bull chase you, that's what the clowns do," she informed him sagely.

"I'm not a clown," Elmer replied firmly, contemplating getting up. He really didn't want to but someone was probably wondering where the little girl was.

"What are you then?" the child queried, tilting her head inquisitively.

"I'm a cop," he told her, gesturing to his badge, "You can call me Officer Gulch."

Scrunching up her nose, the kid shook her head. "Not a cop, the badge is wrong," she said.

"Eh?" the policeman uttered in surprise, pushing himself painfully up onto his elbows so that he could look for himself. "It is not," he added indignantly a moment later.

"Is," the brat fired back insistently, reaching out to trace a circle around the six-pointed star with one finger, "is wrong."

"What's wrong with it then?" Elmer demanded a little more harshly than he'd meant to. He was proud of his badge, dammit.

"It...It," the girl began, poking at one of the points insistently, "It just is!" she wailed in agitation.

Alarmed at how upset she was getting – were her eyes watering? – the cop interjected hastily, "Okay, maybe it's wrong where you come from, not all police forces use the same badge. You think that could be the problem?"

Sniffling ominously, the little girl rubbed her eyes before nodding ever so slightly.

"See, so I can be a cop," he suggested gently, then as she slowly nodded once more he added, "Do you mind telling me your name?"

"DG."

"Well DG," Elmer stated, attempting to sit up, "it's nice to meet – _ow!_" he gasped, flopping forward onto his stomach.

"Your bum's bleeding," DG informed him.

_Well that would explain why it hurts so bad_, the farm boy thought.

"You got whored," she added.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Bull got you with his horns, you got whored," DG explained.

"I do believe you mean gored," the cop pointed out delicately as he gingerly began probing the wound.

"That's what I said," the girl remarked reproachfully.

"Ah, right," Elmer muttered distractedly as he wondered how to go about bandaging his own butt, the guys at the station were going to die of laughter – all six of them. "I take it you went to see the rodeo?" he asked.

DG nodded. "The nice man took me."

"Nice man?" he inquired, considering then rejecting the idea of having the girl try and bandage it for him.

"Friend of Popsicle," the kid explained, "helped us come here. Cries a lot," she added thoughtfully.

"Does he now?" the cop prompted absently as he struggled out of his shirt to get at the undershirt beneath.

"Yup, cried and hugged me lots when he had to leave. Momster says he misses his wife and children."

"I see," Elmer said sympathetically, drawing his own conclusions as he hitched to the side to shrug back into the shirt, hissing as he pressed the folded undershirt to the wound to stem the bleeding. "And where might one find Momster and Popsicle?" he panted after a moment.

"There," DG said, pointing to where, off in the distance, one could just make out a rooftop set against a stand of trees.

"The old Gale place?" the cop asked in surprise, "I didn't know someone had bought it. What on Earth are you doing all the way out here?"

Blue eyes clouded over as they gazed into the middle distance, brows furrowing the little girl mumbled, "I was looking for...looking for...something."

"Something?" the policeman encouraged softly.

"For an adventure!" DG blurted, her expression clearing instantly.

"Huh, no kidding," Elmer Gulch replied as he glanced between the remote farm house and the seemingly immeasurable distance he was going to have to cross in order to get back to his cruiser. He was going to have to climb a fence, too. _This is going to hurt._ "You think you can warn me next time first? Something tells your adventures are going to get me into trouble."

Earnest blue eyes gazed back up at him, it was a shame he missed the impish smile that lurked in their depths.


	2. Well

_Disclaimer: I own neither Tin Man nor Lassie; which would you rather have, Lassie or Tutor/Toto?_

_Author's Note: Okay, so somehow people seemed to have gotten the impression after the last chapter of 'The Courting of Officer Gulch' that I meant the Gulch Verse was ending – obviously this is not so. Apparently no one paid attention to point 2 and everyone seems to have forgotten those promised 'bonus' chapters to 'Otherside Encounter' altogether. In case you were wondering, these stories are not them; most of those chapters were thought up long before the idea of these stories even tickled my brain. Really, Queen Isabella pretty much nailed it in her review of the last chapter: "This is the story that never ends, yes it goes on and on my friends, she started writing it, now we won't let her stop, and it will go on forever and ever, yes it is the story that never ends..." I'm not sure Glitch would approve of the rhythm but the essence is there. The Gulch Verse is like the universe: it keeps expanding._

_PS Remember what I said about not all chapters being funny..._

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...

DG never could explain properly why she wandered so much; the words always seemed to avoid her, slipping away and disappearing into the depths of her young mind leaving her to stutter and falter, unable to answer the question. But she knew, in her heart she _knew_, something was missing, something important, something she absolutely had to find again. It was that elusive feeling that had her sitting for hours staring at the doll in her hand as if expecting it to move, that had her reaching out in the night after a nightmare only to wonder why her little hands felt so empty, that had her pausing in the midst of childish conversations with the local dogs as if she were waiting for one of them to reply, that inevitably found her wandering the countryside looking ever behind her as if expecting someone to follow.

Today was no exception. DG always knew she was different; even though she'd live there a year and the tiny town was the only home she could remember, she was the newcomer, the outsider, the stranger. Everyone knew it, so there had been no reason for Bobby Gibbons to shout it out in front of the whole class like that. She couldn't help not remembering before having come here, before..._before,_ she was _not_ a stupid head. Having come to this conclusion quite quickly, the six year old had proceeded to shove the offending Bobby off the monkey bars before climbing down herself and storming off the playground while the teacher's back was turned.

Located on the edge of town, the school looked out over nothing but acre upon acre of farmland, currently in the process of being harvested, and one dilapidated old homestead that local legend held to be haunted by the ghosts of its former owners. Naturally, it drew the petulant child like a magnet – there ought to be some sort of adventure there. DG was doomed to disappointment, however, the ghosts just didn't seem to want to appear, especially with the way the withered boards let light in all over the place. Everyone knew ghosts liked the dark. Back outside, stomping her foot in frustration, the girl glanced back at the now distant school and huffed. Missy Spencer had told her that the spirits would drag trespassers into hell but there wasn't anything dangerous about the old farmhouse-

_Crack._

-except its rotted out old well.

DG shrieked in fear as the ground gave out beneath her, then in shock and pain as she landed with an awkward squelch in the waste deep mix of water and mud at the bottom. Gasping in alarm, struggling upright, the six year old tried to catch her bearings in a place that was all dark and dank, hemmed in by rough dirt walls, half caved in from years of neglect. Hyperventilating now, the girl looked around for some means of escape, only to disturb a nest of bats with one of her questing arms, sending them fluttering and screeching out of the well. Horrified recognition leapt out from some forgotten place in her mind and DG screamed in terror. _Don't let go_, something whispered in her mind then was ripped away as she scrabbled desperately at the walls trying to get out but they kept crumbling and her feet were stuck and she wanted her Momster, she wanted her Popsicle, she wanted...

...a face tried to form in her mind but it dissolved before she could truly grasp at it. _Nice man_, she thought briefly but that, too, fled her conscience, leaving her alone in the cold blackness. The six year old reached her small hands up towards the circle of light far above her and wept in despair.

An eternity later, a familiar rumbling disturbed the oppressive silence of the well. DG may not remember _before_, but she remembered _after_ just fine; she knew that sound, she knew what it meant. Grasping at the walls for more, little girl yelled for help with all the might in her tiny body, but after a few minutes the rumbling faded leaving the only unwelcome quiet behind it. Stretching towards the light, straining with every nerve in the direction of the world beyond, DG waited and hoped until, finally, the rumbling came back. Hollering once more, the six year old desperately tried again and again to be heard by whoever was out there, but over and over the rumbling faded away, leaving her in darkness until she could do no more than whimper at the sky and shiver at the cold.

"I'm scared," she rasped, "I'm scared-" a name tried to rise but got caught in her throat, choking her. Her hands opened and closed fitfully while her tears continued to fall. The rumbling approached again...

...and _stopped._

"I don't bloody _believe_ this," somebody growled to the world in general, "how many times do I have to tell that back-born jackass to cover this well properly? It's less than a mile from the bleeding school, one these days a kid's gonna take it into their head to fall right in if that son of a-_DG_!" the man exclaimed as he appeared at the edge of the circle of light and peered down. "What are you...stupid question, are you hurt?" he demanded.

DG spent half a second doubting reality, then she howled, "I'mscared! It'scoldan'darkan'scary. An'there'sbatsan'crawliesan'Iwantooooooout!"

"Shh, shh, hey easy, DG, easy," the man said, kneeling at the edge of the well, "It's going to be okay, DG, I'm going to get you out of there, alright?"

Panting heavily, she merely gazed up at him with haunted, anxious blue eyes.

"Shh, it's okay," he said again, "Do you remember me? We've met a few times, I'm Officer Gulch, remember?"

Nodding tremulously, DG replied, "You're a cop. Badge is wrong."

"That's right, I'm a cop even though my badge is wrong," Officer Gulch assured her steadily, "Now, I'm going to get you out of there, okay? It's going to be alright, I have to get up now, but don't worry," he added hastily as she squeaked in alarm, "I'm not going to leave you alone, I just need to go get the chains out of the tractor and move it closer. I'm not going anywhere, okay?"

Waiting until she had nodded hesitantly, the cop disappeared from sight, talking all the while to let her know he was still there. A moment later he was drowned out by the roar of the tractor as it was thrown into gear and edged closer, then the reassuring monologue resumed, accompanied by the clink of chains.

"You still okay DG?" he called down to her as he reappeared, "Alright," he continued, "I'm going to lower the chain down now. I want you to wrap it around your chest – your chest not your waist, that's important – and hook the end on the closest link you can, okay? Alright, here we go."

DG reached frantically for the chain as it approached. Her frozen, trembling hands could hardly grasp it, but the rags he'd wrapped around the end links for padding helped and after a few fumbling attempts she managed to get the hook fastened around the chain.

"Okay, DG, I'm going to try to pull you up on the count of three, one, two, three _hurgh_," he grunted with effort as the chain went taut.

"Ow, ow, owie, ow, ow," the six year old cried out as the suctioning mud held her in place against the pull of the policeman, "I's stuck," she wailed.

"_Frak_," Officer Gulch cursed, letting up immediately, "DG, I think I'm going to have to go for help."

It took her a moment to process this then she bawled in panicked protest. "NO! Don't leave me 'lone," she yowled, "Don't want to be alone. I'm scared, it's dark and cold and..."

"Hey, hey, easy, DG," the policeman called back, "I don't want to leave you here but I'm going to need help. I'll come back I promise."

But the girl refused to be comforted, her cries rose in pitch until they became a piteous, keening wail.

"Alright, alright, calm down, DG, I'm not going to leave you. _I'm not going to leave you_. Just take a breath okay?" running a hand through his hair, glancing around helplessly, the cop muttered, "Where's Lassie when you need him?"

Staring up at the silhouetted figure above with a tear streaked face, DG bent every last ounce of her will on silently pleading him not go, not to leave her alone.

"Aw _heck_," Officer Gulch bit out, "This is a downright _stupid_ thing to do – against all rules and regulations, and even common sense – but I challenge _them_ to leave a six year old girl alone in a dark hole. Someone's bound to come looking for one of us eventually anyway," and with that he grabbed the chain and lowered himself into the well.

The bottom of the well went completely black as the policeman's body blotted out the light, but that was okay, there was a cop man on the way. _You can trust – men_, a voice whispered in her mind, and for a second she thought she saw familiar brown eyes staring back at her. Then they melted away, forgotten in an instant, and the cop man was there, gingerly trying to find footholds to work with.

"Hey there, DG," he said soothingly.

She threw her arms around his waist and burst into tears.

"Shh, DG, shh," he murmured, rubbing her back, "It's okay; it's going to be okay." He held her like that until at last she quieted down, then he gently pried her off of him, "Alright, let's get you unstuck. May I have my hand back?" he inquired as she fastened her own tiny hands around it, she wondered why she expected it to glow, "No? Okay, you can keep that one," he continued as he slid the other hand down her leg and began to prise it out of the mud. "I'll give you this, half-pint," he grunted after a moment, "when you get yourself into trouble you really go all out. Trade hands please. Thank you. Okay," he added a moment later, "I think you're loose, let's get out of here shall we?"

Nodding firmly, DG scrambled onto the policeman's proffered back and latched on.

"Alright, here we go," Officer Gulch said, grabbing the chain and hefting himself up. The mud squelched loudly as he muscled his feet free and they began their slow ascent back to the world of light. "Ah, DG," he wheezed, "just a thought but you might want to let me breathe...never mind then," he gasped as the six year old continued to cling tightly to his neck, "breathing's highly overrated anyhow."

DG cried out in joy as she emerged at last into the afternoon sunlight moments later, it was the most beautiful thing she'd seen in her young life.

"Alright, let's have a look at you," the cop stated, setting her down carefully, "Cripes, you're freezing. Stay there," he ordered, striding over to the idling tractor to extract a jacket from somewhere within. "That's better," he commented, wrapping it around her and rubbing her arms vigorously to warm her.

"S-smells f-funny," she chattered, wrinkling her nose.

"It's eau de tractor grease, diesel, mown hay and just a hint of cow manure, it's a manly smell," he informed her.

"I'm-m-ma g-girl," she protested.

"Fine, now it's a girlie smell, but when I put it back on it will be a manly smell," the cop compromised, "Now, are you going to tell me how you came to be sitting at the bottom of that old well when you are supposed to be in school?"

Mindful of the schoolyard code against tattling, she merely replied, "I w-was looking for an adventure."

Officer Gulch sighed. "You would be. What did I tell you about your adventures?" he asked, running his hands firmly down her arms.

Furrowing her brows as she attempted to remember that long ago conversation, she was delighted to find that it came to her quite clearly and easily, "To warn you first," she declared triumphantly. "_Ow_," she added as his questing hands prodded her ankle.

"That hurts?" he inquired, probing the ankle tenderly.

"_Yes_, make it go away."

"'Fraid I can't do that without dumping you back down the well," he apologized, "I think you've sprained it. That nice cold mud worked wonders on the pain and swelling but now that you're warming up you're going to start feeling it again. Best get you back to the school," he said, scooping her up.

"Not taking the tractor?" DG asked as the cop reached inside the cab to turn it off.

"Walking's faster, and believe me, you would not enjoy the bumpy ride," he informed her, turning towards the school with the smoothest gait possible in a field.

"I'm slowing the harvest aren't I?" she said guiltily after a moment. DG may be young, but she was well aware that that was a bad thing.

"Don't worry your little head about it," he reassured her, "when I get my hands on him, ol' Rob's crops are going to be the least of his worries," growling slightly he added, "'cause I'm going to beat the stuffing out of him."

"Cops don't hurt people," DG reminded him.

"True," Officer Gulch agreed, "I'm sure I'll feel terrible about it later, but if Rob Gibbons can endanger children with his laziness, I think I should be allowed to give him a good enough scare to ensure he doesn't do again, don't you think?"

Gazing up at him sceptically, the little girl couldn't help but tell him: "You aren't scary."

"Sure I am," he fired back, "I'm a right old menace."

Forehead creasing in puzzlement – she had no idea what menace meant – the six year old decided that if he wanted to be one he could. Instead she decided to address something that had been bugging her for some time now. "You're not wearing wrong badge. Can't be a cop if you're not even wearing the wrong badge," she stated.

"I'm under cover as a farmer right now," the cop informed her seriously, "making sure no one's speeding in the field or falling in wells. Can't wear my badge when I'm under cover."

"Oh, okay," DG replied, reassured.

"What are you doing?"

"Givin' you a badge," she said, drawing a muddy, five-pointed star on his chest.

"Is that the right badge?"

"Y-es," was the hesitant reply as she drew a circle around the star, "I th-think so...it...it..." DG faltered as the thought refused to coalesce in her mind.

"It looks good to me," Officer Gulch stated firmly as she became visibly upset.

Smiling winningly up at him, neither noticed as one of her hands drifted absently up, blotting out the mud-grey 'badge'.

The school was a beehive of frantic activity when they arrived. The children were gathered together in the playground being counted while inside teachers turned the classrooms upside down in search of the truant.

"Looking for something?" Officer Gulch inquired loudly.

"Oh Elmer, you found her!" DG's teacher shouted in relief, "Where was...you're covered in mud! What happened?"

"Timmy fell down the well," the cop replied blandly, ignoring the poke from the little girl in his arms who hissed her name at him, "I think her ankle's sprained and she got fairly cold but other than that she seems fine," he reported, following the teacher towards the room that served as the school infirmary. "You called her parents?"

"Yes, they should be here shortly," the teacher informed the policeman as he set her gently down on the bed opposite the slightly battered Bobby Gibbons. "What was she doing out by the old homestead?"

"Three guesses, first two don't count," Officer Gulch replied, casting an experienced eye over the two children currently making nasty faces at each other. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got some urgent business to attend to. If anyone needs me I'll be at the hardware store; tell Robert Gibbons I'll be sending him the bill and that not another acre of his crop is getting harvested until it's paid," he said, striding out the door, "I'll tear apart every darned tractor he's got if that's what it takes to get the point across. He's lucky I don't charge him with reckless endangerment..."

Glaring balefully at DG as the teacher settled her into the bed and bustled about for supplies, young Bobby Gibbons jumped on the first opportunity he had to confront his new schoolyard enemy. "My daddy's gonna get you for hurting me," he threatened, waving his bandaged fist at her.

"Nuh-uh," DG fired back, unimpressed, "'cause Officer Gulch is gonna get'im first. He's a menace he is."


	3. Tire

_Disclaimer: It has been a VERY long day; I _dare_ you to make an issue about my not owning Tin Man._

_Author's Note: This is one of those chapters. You know, the ones where I cringe as I hit the post button only to have everyone prove my worries groundless (or at least anyone that reviews generally does). I hope that is the case yet again. Anyhoo, I am once again falling asleep as I type so no fun A.N. from me. Please do enjoy the chapter, the next one might take a while (or not, you know how these things go). So, yeazzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz._

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...

Elmer Gulch tried not to blush as Emily came flying out of the house with her usual enthusiasm. He had long since gotten over the brief crush he'd had on the sweet, motherly blond but her way of greeting him...

"Here, I believe this belongs to you," he said hastily, interposing the squirming, giggling burden he'd been hauling under one arm between himself and the on-coming embrace. Elmer was pretty sure that Emily didn't throw herself at everyone that appeared on her doorstep, it was just that no one else had just come from pulling DG out of some scrape or other every single time she saw them. Especially since every other cop in the county had taken to avoiding DG duty like the plague – the chief had even gone so far once as driving out to the Gulch's farm and taking over Elmer's field work in order to free him up to take care of the DG-problem-of-the-day himself. So yeah, this happened a lot, and Emily acted like he'd just saved the world...Every. Damn. Time. The young policeman was willing to bet she hugged him almost as often as she hugged her husband, maybe even more often.

"Her bike needs fixed," he added, setting down his other burden as DG's mom fussed over her. Elmer considered it a mark of the girl's genius for trouble that she was able to escape so thoroughly and so frequently from a mother as protective as Emily. Not that one could blame the woman; the seven year old seemed to have a standing duel with Darwin and was ever trying to prove him wrong.

"What happened?" Emily asked looking up at last.

"Just a little bike accident: someone shoved a leg through the gears," the cop replied, "or the gears were shoved through someone's leg, depends on your point of view."

"Your leg's bleeding."

"That it is."

"Baby girl!" a new voice interjected as Hank came racing up to meet them, dropping the tool box he'd been carrying as he ran, "Are you alright?" he demanded, kneeling beside her and reaching out hesitantly as if afraid to touch her lest she break.

"She landed on her head, she'll be fine," Elmer stated dryly, causing the girl in question to scowl up at him.

"Officer Gulch's stomach is hard," DG complained.

"So's your head, which _should_ have been wearing a helmet," the cop fired back, "There's no law against it so I can't really do more than strongly suggest you get her one," he told the couple, "_especially_ if she is going to insist on running people off the road with her bike."

"I was _trying_ to play chicken," the miscreant piped up firmly.

"And I was trying to go for a jog," the policeman grumbled, "but for your information, if that was a game of chicken, you won five times over – it's generally considered a victory the _first_ time your opponent dodges out of the way."

"Officer Gulch is no fun," she pouted.

"And _you,_ young lady, are absolutely filthy," her mother broke in sternly, "You're covered with dirt and blood and I don't know what else. Now you march right upstairs this minute and get yourself cleaned up. And make sure you thank Officer Gulch for taking the trouble to bring you home before you do."

"Thank you, Officer," the brat said primly, sticking her tongue out at him the second Emily's back was turned.

"I can't thank you enough, Officer," Emily resumed as her little demon skipped into the house, "Just give me a minute to get her sorted and I'll have a look at your leg."

"That won't be necessary, ma'am," Elmer assured her politely, keeping a wary eye out lest she decide to hug him after all, "if you give me a bit of water and some gauze I can look to it myself. I'm sure you'll have your hands full enough with DG," he added quickly as she seemed like to demure.

The farm wife took the bait, much to the young policeman's relief.

"We sure do appreciate the way you look out for our DG," Hank told the cop as his wife hustled off into the house, "Don't rightly know how we could make it up to you."

"Tie DG up in the backyard for a day?" Elmer suggested mildly then continued with a shrug as the girl's father laughed, "It's my job, she just makes it more interesting than most."

"Now don't you be talking out here all day," Emily's voice interrupted as she set a first aid kit on the porch steps, "that tire won't change itself and I'm sure the officer has other things he was planning to do with his day."

"Yes, dear," her husband replied meekly, watching her disappear once more before saying hopefully, "We can chat while I work, what do you say?"

Smiling, the small town boy accepted the inevitable, limping over to the porch to take care of his leg while Hank started in on a long and colourful account of his boyhood in Milltown. The wounds weren't that bad, the cop considered as he prodded the long but shallow gash running down his calf. Nothing he couldn't handle himself, a little antiseptic to clean out the cuts, the appropriate application of tape and gauze and he was good to go. His ankle wasn't even more than mildly sprained. He knew this from vast experience - Elmer had tried to update his first aid certificate just last year but had ended up teaching the course instead when he somehow turned out to be more knowledgeable than the instructor. Funny how that happened.

"Tires were so much easier to change in Milltown," Hank groaned suddenly, distracting the cop from his work.

Elmer Gulch looked up at the farmer and blinked. Surveying the mess Hank had made while...actually the cop had no idea what the man had been trying to do. The stated intent had been to change a tire but he'd never seen...Opening his mouth to comment, he changed his mind and closed it again to reconsider his words. "Do they also have bikes in Milltown?" he asked at last.

"Of course," Hank replied absently, giving the stubborn tire a poke with his pliers – _why was he using...oh never mind._

"Right," the cop sighed, hobbling over to haul DG's bike closer to the tool box. "You know," he suggested in an off-hand manner, as he began removing the damaged gears, "you _might_ want to try jacking up the truck first."

"Huh," the man grunted, "maybe I should go get that then?"

"Maybe," he agreed. Repositioning himself to settle his wounded leg more comfortably, the policeman picked up the persuader to hammer the bent sprockets back into shape.

"Will this work?" Hank asked, reappearing at his elbow.

"Only if the tire has magically fixed itself while you were gone," Elmer informed him kindly, "that's a bike pump."

"Oh, they looked different in Milltown," DG's father said before shuffling off again.

_Milltown_, the farm grown cop decided, _must be a very strange place._ He was not entirely sure he ever wanted to go there.

Elmer Gulch had DG's bike completely repaired and reassembled by the time Hank had managed to come back with an actual jack. He felt it was an encouraging sign that Hank had even managed to locate a tire iron while he was at it. Demonstrating the application of these useful items, the Kansas policeman soon solved the Milltown man's tire problem. Unfortunately, he'd happened noticed the puddle slowly forming under the truck will he was at it. Having a keen interest in preventing Hank's turning the vehicle into some sort fire hazard by trying to do the repair himself, the policeman sent the farmer off to locate a creeper – something he thought was bound to keep the farmer busy and out of his hair for some time – and crawled under the truck to locate the trouble himself.

He was in the midst of examining a rather...unique patch-up job to the fuel line while trying to figure out how to jury-rig something functional that could at least get the truck to a qualified mechanic when the farmhouse door slammed open and closed and a pair of little bare feet appeared in his field of view.

"Whatcha doing?" DG demanded, practically standing on her head to peer under the car.

"Pondering the great mysteries of the universe," Elmer informed her.

"What mysteries?"

"How a man can run a farm and yet know absolutely nothing about machinery. Can you hand me that bucket?"

"How do you know he knows nothing 'bout machinery?" the inquisitive child asked as she tossed the bucket under the truck.

"The evidence is irrefutable."

"What's irrefufible?"

"Undeniable."

"What's-?"

"The opposite of what you do every time you are in trouble."

There was a momentary pause, and then, "What's this?"

"What's what?" the cop asked just as the truck abruptly dropped an inch closer to his nose. _Oh surely not_, he thought in disbelief as glanced towards his feet where DG was hanging off the jack lever and reaching curiously towards the safety latch that kept the jack locked in place.

"_DG!_" he hissed, rolling desperately to get clear as the girl yanked on the bolt, releasing the locking mechanism. The jack collapsed down and to the side under the weight of the truck as Elmer Gulch's foot caught DG in the stomach and booted her away. The cop, meanwhile, yelped in pain as the running board clipped his shoulder, the truck body sinking over the tires as the truck landed with a hard thud. He decided he'd like to lie there minute until his heart stopped trying to hammer its way out of his chest.

A pair of earnest blue eyes set in a childish face appeared above him. "You kicked me," the girl accused.

"You dropped a truck on me," Elmer told her, "we're even."

"Did not," she denied instantly, "I was just _looking_."

"Trucks don't fall from just looking," he growled.

"I wanted to know how it works," DG replied, unrepentant.

"You want to know how it works?" the cop asked with a slight glint in his eye as he sat up, "You know what, I'll tell you all about how it works, and while I'm at it I'm going to show you how to change a tire so that you can remind Hank every time he forgets the basics. _Someone_ on this farm needs to have some mechanical sense. This, DG, is a jack. It is used to keep trucks from being dropped on the mechanics trying to fix them, at least when troublemaking imps are kept far, far away..."


	4. Fishing

_.naM niT nwo ton od I :remialcsiD_

_Author's Note: You know what makes me happy? Discovering that the Tin Man miniseries was shot in B.C., 'cause that means I can locate Gulch and DG's hometown near whatever geological features found in Kansas that suit my fancy. Convenient that._

* * *

...

DG couldn't remember being so frightened in her life, though she had the haunting feeling that she had been. She was lost, trapped, tumbling, and drifting. The weight was pushing down on her from all sides, she couldn't breathe, couldn't find air, couldn't break free. The darkness was coming, it ate at the edges of her vision, she was falling...

...and then, like a déjà vu, something tugged at her, sorting out the chaos and confusion as life rearranged itself into a gentle, soothing flow. Her head broke the surface and DG breathed.

Not too far away several someone's burst into laughter.

"Nice cast!" a man's voice chortled.

"And I once caught a kid thiiiiiiiis big," quipped another.

"I don't know," a third said dubiously, "it looks a bit small to me, best throw it back."

Spluttering and coughing, held in place against the current by a rather uncomfortable pull on her clothes, DG glanced up to discover Officer Gulch, standing amidst four strange men, staring back at her in utter surprise. For a moment they formed a cartoon tapestry, then the cop blinked, handed one of the men his fishing pole and waded forward to haul DG out of the river, removing the fishing hook snagged in her shorts as he did so.

"You know, Elmer," the fourth stranger mused, "I appreciate you taking us out to fish in your favourite spot and all, but if catch of the day is child I think I might just want to try a new location."

Ignoring them, the policeman started towelling her off as best he could with his jacket. "Found the river did you?" he asked drily, "You alright?"

Spitting out the last of the river water she'd inhaled, DG pondered his question. "I like the river," she said at last, "but it's hard to breathe."

"Yes, well, most people try to keep their head above water when they swim," the cop informed her.

"Don't know how to swim," she explained.

"Then one might consider staying out of the river until you can," Officer Gulch pointed out, "I'll talk to Hank and Emily about it."

"You think I should learn?" she questioned, for some reason it seemed like a strange idea.

"I think you should add every last survival skill you can to your toolbox," he opined, "it should increase your chances of surviving to your next birthday by about this much," he added, holding his thumb and index finger all of an eighth of an inch apart, "Knowing you, you ought to learn how to parachute."

"Aw, would you look at that," said the first of the four men who'd had been watching with delighted amusement, "he's had a kid not five minutes and he's already gone all paternal."

"This is why we need to change fishing holes," the fourth man said, "I'm not ready to be a father."

"Really?" inquired the third, "Then you and your girlfriend really need to have a talk."

"What's that supposed to mean?" he demanded, "Hey, where are you going?"

Rolling his eyes, Officer Gulch replied, "I have to take DG home before her parents call out the National Guard to go looking for her."

"DG? _The_ DG?" the second man exclaimed, "You're DG?"

"Of _course_ I'm DG," the eight year old responded, glaring at the stupid man indignantly, "Who are _you_?"

"They're just some buddies of mine from police academy out for the weekend," the cop answered, trying to herd the girl towards his truck, "don't mind them."

"Oie," his friends objected, "Don't be like that, we want to talk to her a little."

"Yeah, did you really set his hair on fire?"

"That was an accident," DG asserted firmly.

Crowing with delight, the first man begged, "Did he _really_ let you try and fix it?"

"And we're going now," the blushing Officer Gulch interjected, practically dragging DG along with him. He hadn't got more than a few steps, however, when he stopped short. Glancing up curiously, the eight year old was confused to see him counting something out on his fingers. "Crap," he huffed after a moment, "we're gonna hafta walk."

"Damn," one of his pals swore, "And here I was hoping to cite him for a DUI."

"You know," another put forth, "it's been bothering me, we've all been drinking, how are we supposed to get home?"

"We are less than a five minute walk from my place," their host informed them.

"Then why did we bring the truck?"

"So we wouldn't have to carry the beer, stupid."

"I say we should all escort the young lady home, that way we find out more about the adventurous DG and any stories Elmer is unwilling to tell."

"Sure no problem," the local cop agreed before adding shrewdly, "it's only a bit over five miles to the old Gale place."

"And I vote for staying here and seeing whether we can actually catch an actual fish," the, ah, avid fisherman suggested promptly, "Elmer ought to be nice and sober by the time he gets back, then he can drive us back to the land of heavenly food."

"Amen to that, if Elmer were a girl I'd marry him in a second just to get regular access to his mom's cooking," a fellow enthusiast chimed in, settling back down beside the river.

"What, you don't think he is pretty enough as is?" their chum chortled, much to the amusement of the group.

"When I get back I am throwing you all in the river," Officer Gulch growled, "Come on, DG, I'd best get you out of here before they forget the audience is PG."

But DG had decided that she didn't very much want to walk another five miles that day, either. She had such little legs and they were so very tired. "Can I have a piggy-back ride?" she asked hopefully.

One of the fishermen choked on his beer. "She wants to ride the piggy," he quipped.

"You do realize that's an insult to all of us don't you?" another pointed out.

"Think we can convince him to carry us home?" wondered a third as their fellow cop gave in to the soulful blue eyes staring imploringly up at him and bent to let DG climb on his back.

"I don't think you're cute enough," opined the fourth with a shake of his head.

"They really your friends?" the eight year old inquired as her particular piggy strode off in the direction of home.

"That's what they keep telling me," he confirmed.

"They all cops like you?"

"Yup."'

"Are their badges all wrong, too?"


	5. Bullet

_Disclaimer: I do not own Tin Man, or the itty bitty line borrowed from Firefly, blink and you'll miss it._

_Author's Note: Sooo, those of you who were paying attention to 'The Courting of Officer Gulch' may have been looking forward to this chapter, you may have even been looking to forward to meeting a few of the characters. And I've just got to say it: Finally a decent wound on this ship..._

_PS Quality Control likes this chapter, she likes it a lot. She refused to let me edit it, like, at all._

* * *

...

Elmer Gulch couldn't believe the nightmarish vision before him; it just wasn't right, it wasn't fair, he'd had such a _long_ day already. If dealing with not just one, but two of the local drunks _at the same time_ hadn't been tiring enough, he'd been roped into helping Farmer Spencer assist the delivery of one of his spring calves – couldn't the man have called the vet just this once? Then, to cap it all off, he'd lost a fifty dollar bet with the chief down at the shooting range. Sure, it was bound to keep their lord and master happy and crowing for at least a week, but, personally, Elmer would have preferred the fifty bucks. And now, after all that, when he just wanted to have a good meal and tinker with his truck, he had to come home to...

"What is _that_ doing here?" he stated flatly.

"Elmer," his mother chided in amusement, "let's try to be an adult now. Hank and Emily had to go see a man about a tractor; they asked me if we could keep an eye on her."

Choosing to bask in denial a moment longer, the cop chose to focus on the first half of her explanation. "He repair another tractor to death?" he inquired.

His mom's lips twitched but it was the nine year old he was trying to pretend wasn't there that answered. "I told him it looked funny," DG informed him, "Mama Gulch is teaching me to cook."

_Mama Gulch?_ he thought in dismay as he surveyed the food spattered kitchen. So much for his good meal.

"Well I never had a daughter of my own to teach," Mrs. Gulch explained, "and Elmer was just such a natural there wasn't really anything to it. Of course," she added sternly, "if my son could only find himself a nice girl, settle down, and give me some grandchildren, maybe then I wouldn't have to borrow the neighbour's daughter."

_Oh god,_ the young policeman thought, horrified, _she's dangerous just standing there breathing._

"You don't mind though, do you?" the greater evil cooed to the lesser, having made her point, "Emily is a fine cook and all, I'm sure she'll show you someday, it's just, well," she whispered conspiratorially, "she needs to learn that the recipes are more like guidelines and to mix it up some rather than follow the instructions so robotically. But we don't need to be obeying the rules so strictly now do we?"

Grinning in a way that generally made Elmer Gulch nervous, DG held up her wooden spoon and agreed whole-heartedly. The cop pondered a moment advising his mother to have a little care with what she said to the Spawn of Trouble currently occupying the kitchen, but instead opted to take advantage of their distraction and escape. His mom could handle herself, and he was due for some time in the relaxing quiet of the garage. Making sure the girl wasn't watching, the young policeman popped the clip out of his gun and reached up to set it on top the nearest kitchen cabinet, taking the bullets with him into the garage. Couldn't be too careful with Mischief's Handmaiden in the house.

'Some time' turned out to be precisely five minutes and thirty-eight seconds. "Elmer," his mother called, "poking her head into the garage, can you watch DG a minute? I have to run your father his supper."

Eyes bugging in alarm, the cop desperately craned around to protest, unfortunately his mom was deceptively quick, disappearing before he'd had the chance to utter a word. A pair of little bare feet appeared in his field of view...

"Whatcha doing?"

...it was like déjà vu all over again. Scrambling frantically to get his head clear of the hazard zone, the policeman was relieved to find that the Offspring of Disaster was nowhere near the jack currently holding his truck aloft. "Changing oil," he replied belatedly.

"Can I help?"

Elmer took a slow deep breath as he contemplated the conundrum before him. He had to keep an eye on the girl somehow, and a busy DG was less likely to be a troublesome DG – idle hands and all that – on the other hand, DG in conjunction with trucks and jacks had been proven to be trouble...and now she was doing that earnest blue-eyed thing.

"Do you remember the first rule of the garage?" he asked slowly.

"Troublemaking imps are not to touch the jack unless otherwise instructed to do so," she replied promptly.

"And rule two?"

"Troublemaking imps are not to touch _anything_ unless specifically instructed to do so."

"And the pledge?" the cop demanded.

Giggling, the nine year old schooled her features in a serious expression before reciting from rote, "I, DG, Troublemaking Imp, solemnly swear not to partake in any heart attack inducing behaviours, such as making trucks fall from the sky or setting one's hair on fire, whilst I am in the process of making mechanical repairs. I will listen to and obey the instructions of Oh Most Wise One so that I may learn the much important things without doing the stupid things, like killing myself or Oh Most Wise One. This I pledge in Darwin's name, because even he needs a day off once in a while. Gesundheit."

"Gesundheit?"

"You added that last time," DG reminded him.

"That's because you sneezed," Elmer informed her, getting up to rifle through an assortment of odds and ends piled in the corner, "You may help, here's your creeper."

"That's a skateboard."

"And for someone of your size it'll work just fine as a creeper, it did for me when I was little. Certainly didn't get any use out of it as a skateboard, what with the gravel roads and all," he added ruefully.

Craning her neck back to look up at his respectable six feet of height, the girl queried sceptically, "You were little?"

Elmer snorted in amusement. "Yes, many moons ago when I was but a mere lad, I, too, was as small as you half-pint."

Eyes wide in face of this amazing new information, the nine year old demanded, "Were there dinosaurs then?"

Bursting out laughing, the young policeman added airily, "Oh no, that was in my parents time, I hung out with the cavemen."

"Cool," DG breathed in awe.

_This_, Elmer decided a short while later, _is not so bad_. Sure it was going to take far longer to change the oil than strictly necessary, what with the brat insisting on doing everything she could, but it was kind of fun teaching her the basics of car maintenance. Heaven knew Hank was going to need all the help he could get.

"I can't get it, I'm not strong enough," the girl complained as she attempted futilely to loosen the plug.

"Here," he said, grabbing a wrench to fit on the end of the socket wrench she was using, "try this; it'll increase your torque."

"What's torque?"

"Something they'll torture you with in physics when you're older," the cop grimaced, "suffice to say it'll help."

"Yeah!" DG crowed triumphantly a few minutes later as the plug came loose and oil started to drain out, "Now what?"

"We let it drain."

"I'm thirsty," she commented.

"There's some juice in the fridge, want me to get you some?" Elmer asked as he repositioned the bucket to catch the oil better.

"If I can change oil I can get my own juice," DG told him reproachfully.

Hiding his smile behind one arm, the policeman replied meekly, "Glasses are in the cupboard closest to the door."

Rolling out from under the truck as little feet pattered out of the garage, Elmer decided he might as well get some routine maintenance done while he waited. Hearing a chair scrape across the floor, the cop hummed with laughter once more. Five minutes or so later, having changed the filter and topped up the radiator fluid, the amateur mechanic felt a twitch between his shoulder blades. Where was the imp? It didn't take that long to go for juice.

"DG?" he called, wiping his hands on a rag and making his way out of the garage. "DG?" he called again, entering the kitchen, "Where are you brat?"

The pitcher of juice was on the counter, a half full glass was beside it...

"Freeze!"

...and the child playing with the gun was hiding behind the kitchen island. _Idiot,_ the cop mentally chastised himself, _how could I forget about that._ At least he knew it wasn't loaded.

"DG," he said sternly, taking a step forward, "give me that."

"I said freeze!" she chirped, mimicking the cops she'd seen on TV...

"Guns are not a toy..."

...and pulling the trigger.

A thunderous bang ripped through the kitchen, the nine year old was knocked over backwards by the recoil while Elmer felt something slam painfully into him, twisting him around to collide solidly with the doorframe. Losing the next couple of seconds, the policeman found himself sitting haphazardly in the doorway, his left arm throbbing with pain that was slowly beginning to build while he attempted to gather his wits. There was something he should be doing.

Across the kitchen, a stunned DG sat up slowly.

"You alright?" Elmer asked vaguely, shaking his head in an attempt to clear it.

The nine year old turned his way and shrieked. "I'm sorry! I'msorryI'msorryI'msorry!" she cried, scrambling forward, "I didn't mean it! I didn't mean to! I...I...I," she gasped, hyperventilating now, "I...I...I," DG took one close look at what she'd done and burst into tears.

Elmer Gulch found something to focus him. "DG. _DG_," he gritted out as evenly as he could, finally remembering to bring his other hand up to put some pressure on the wound, "DG I need you to calm down. It's going to be okay. I need...I need you to go to the cupboard next to the stove and grab the dishcloths out of it. DG can you do that for me? Please?"

A tear streaked face re-emerged from behind the girl's hands as his words sunk in, gave her something to think about, something to do. DG's lips quivered, her little body shook, but she pushed herself to her feet and tottered across the kitchen to do as he asked.

"Okay, we need to fold those up a bit...a bit smaller and press them to the wound," he continued when she returned to his side, "Can you see iiiif the, huff, if the bullet went all the way through?"

"There's a hole in the wall," she told him tremulously.

"Okay, then we nee...d to use some of those on the...the exit wound. Alright, now use that one to tie...them in place," Elmer gasped, dark spots dancing in his vision as DG tightened a dishcloth around the makeshifts bandages. "Knot...knot those ones to...together, we're g-gonna make a sling. Good, that's good DG," he encouraged as the girls trembling hands followed his commands faithfully. "Al...kay, now we hafta...hafta," he faltered as he tried to organize his thoughts, to think of what they needed to do, "I gotta go to the hospital...keys...mom, need to leave a note for mom. Blood all over the kitchen...gonna freak..."

He lost track of a few more minutes but then DG was back beside him, trying to help him stand. Had he told her to do that? Hurt like hell and it was making it hard to see. With the girl's help he managed to stagger out to his cruiser and slump painfully into the driver's seat. Warnings were screaming somewhere in the back of his brain as he struggled to insert the key into the ignition but he couldn't seem to track them down. As a small hand reached out to guide his in starting the car he thought he'd located one.

"Buckle up," he told her.

It wasn't until he was halfway to the county hospital, fighting to keep the cruiser on a maddeningly winding road that his thoughts managed to coalesce enough for him to realize what he was doing wrong. Before he could do anything about it, however, he blanked...

...he came to as the vehicle jolted and scraped painfully over some sort of obstacles. There was something leaning against him, his good arm wrapped instinctively around it as his last thought brought his foot around to slam on the break. Fortunately, they didn't seem to have been going that fast.

"I shou'nt be drivin'," he informed DG blearily as he exerted himself to put the car out of gear. The girl was leaning across him, her hands in a white knuckled grip on the steering wheel. "Use da radio ta call for hoshpital."

"We're already there," she said in a small voice.

"Oh gud...we dinna hit anyting did'e?" he slurred in sudden concern.

"Just the rosebushes."

"Oh...I need ta...need ta go in now," the cop said distractedly, fumbling for the handle.

A small arm shot past him with impossible speed, slamming the door lock down. "Stay," ordered the white-faced DG, then she was gone and that was a problem because he was supposed to look after her and he should get up but something was holding him down and suddenly there were people everywhere, adult people, they could watch DG for a bit, there were certainly enough of them...

Elmer Gulch woke sometime later to the muted throbbing in his left arm, a weight on his chest, and what was probably a glorious amount of painkillers. He seemed to be in a darkened room, one he thought – vaguely – that he recognized. He blinked.

"That's nine year old girl: one; farm grown, full-fledged cop: zero," a voice commented dryly from somewhere nearby.

"I think the score's a bit higher than that," the aforementioned cop retorted groggily.

"Ah, well, to keep the numbers reasonable, I reset the score every time she hits a birthday," the speaker rumbled back in amusement, "How you feeling son?"

"Like I've been shot," he enlightened his father.

"Doesn't feel good does it?" the ex-army mechanic ruminated.

"Nope," agreed his offspring.

"Good, then maybe you won't frighten your mother like that again," Papa Gulch said unsympathetically.

Wincing, Elmer asked, "Where is she?"

"In the hospital cafeteria with Hank and Emily, trying to calm down; your note left much to be desired."

"Note?"

There was a crinkling of paper. "'Shot him,'" his dad read, "'at hospital.'"

"Well, that's short and to the point."

Old Mr. Gulch snorted. "She really shoot you?" he inquired after a minute.

"Yeah."

"How'd that come to happen?"

"Found my gun," the cop replied wearily, "Forgot to remove the chambered round after target practice."

"They'll probably take your gun for a bit," his father warned him.

"S'okay," Elmer mumbled, "My fault."

"She really is her own kind of animal isn't she," Papa Gulch mused, watching as his son brought his good hand up to rest on the shoulder of the little girl currently using him as something between a bed and a pillow, "Refused to let anyone move her ever since you came out of surgery. Almost freaked out when she couldn't wake you up. She's got a good soul, despite her mischief, didn't mean to do you harm. Your mother was saying just this morning how she wished that she had a daughter just like her. Don't know about that myself, not sure I could survive it, your odds don't seem to be looking too good."

"Hmmm," his son hummed in response. DG's head was centered directly over his heart, making sure it was still beating, even in her sleep. "I'm good for another few rounds yet," he murmured.

"Yeah well," his father grumped, "you've got that do-gooder idiocy to you, don't rightly know where you picked that up from. Now you best try and get some rest, I'm going to go let your mother know you've woke up."

"M'kay," the cop answered drowsily as his dad slipped out of the room. Rest sounded like a wonderful idea, but as he dropped his eyes from the door he found a pair of blue ones staring back at him.

"Rule three," said the troublemaking imp earnestly, "no touching guns."

Hurt though it did, Elmer Gulch couldn't help but laugh.


	6. Mermaid

_Disclaimer: I don't own Tin Man or the movie I can remember pretty much nothing of except for the quote I stole._

_Author's Note: Okay nightdrive23 and daughterofthe1king, here it is, I warned you it wouldn't be when or how you expected. That's right people, you're getting a two-for-one – a Tin Man fairytale in the Gulch Verse. When I was driving around in circles disking my father's fields and wondering how on earth I was supposed to do The Little Mermaid within the rules of the O.Z. (not to mention get Cain to cooperate), the thought occurred to me to move it back to the Otherside. Little DG seemed to fit the part so much better, and then the nascent idea of 'Tales from the Otherside' jumped up and ran away with it and, well, there you go. Hope it does not disappoint._

_PS Perhaps I should mention, I went with the Brothers Grimm on this one, not Disney._

* * *

...

* * *

DG loved the water, loved the way it flowed about her, glistening in the sunlight, rippling and warm. Something about it was so familiar; the feeling was elusive, it danced at the edges of her awareness, impossible to track down, but she rarely tried to do so anymore, instead she merely basked in the comfort of its glowing presence. Sounds were different in the water, echoing and soothing, haunting and ma-...her thoughts drifted away, leaving the ten year old floating in a sea of absentminded content.

It was her favourite thing to do, floating on the water, watching the sky or the ceiling, depending on where she was, letting the water lap at her ears, flowing gently around her. She'd loved it every since her first lesson two summers ago, after Officer Gulch had fished her out of the river the first time. Well, almost from her first lesson, she amended with a small smile; she'd had a bit of a false start in the beginning, when her memory of the river had made her hesitant to get in the pool. The cop had taken care of that problem in short order, however, scandalizing the instructors by barging into their lesson unannounced and hurling their timid pupil into the water. He'd jumped in right after her to assure her it was okay. After that, there was no stopping her, DG took to the water like the proverbial duck and the policeman had been grumbling ever since that he couldn't hardly go fishing anymore without some sea urchin coming along and scaring the fish.

She probably wasn't scaring the fish now, however, lying still in the water like she was. Floating in the sun, gently, peacefully, doing nothing to direct her movements, letting the water turn her as it would, drifting along its surface like sea foam on a wave. That's what she was supposed to be after all, like bubbles on the water, the story said so: the Little Mermaid rescues her prince, becomes human for him, only to have him fall in love with some other girl, so she leapt into the sea and became sea foam. DG knew the story well as it was her story, too.

It was at the pool where she took her lessons that she'd met him, her prince, and he was a real prince, too, his name said so. Daniel Prince was sixteen and a junior lifeguard with green eyes and auburn hair. All the girls were in love with him, but he paid particular attention to DG, called her a little mermaid and said she was the best swimmer her age he'd ever seen. Once he'd told her it was a shame she didn't live in a bigger town where she could enter competitions, even going so far as suggest to her parents that they should try and find a pool with some sort of competitive swim program. Unfortunately, Momster and Popsicle had found the expense to be a bar, even with Officer Gulch offering to drive her to the actual aquatic center himself. DG didn't really mind all that much – as willing as she was to take any and all challenges, swimming wasn't just about racing to her. It was about the feel of the water, the fluidity of the motions, the way calm could be found beneath the splashing, or the way turbulence could found under the stillness...besides, who wanted to swim only in straight lines anyhow?

The attendants at the pool had hardly recognized DG this summer, so quiet and well-behaved she'd been – trying to be human for her prince and not the mischievous sea otter they were used to. Okay, so maybe she'd been trying to behave a bit longer that, ever since she'd shot Officer Gulch in fact, but the principle still held true. _And_ she'd saved him – her prince not the cop – he'd been knocked into the pool when Bobby Gibbons was running on the deck and hit his head on the bottom. If it weren't for his little mermaid he would have drowned, and if it weren't for the first aid and CPR certifications that a certain policeman had added to her survival training post gunshot wound, she probably wouldn't have known what to do. What's more, he _knew_ she'd saved him, not like the prince in the fairytale who'd thought it was the other girl, so it _should_ have been happily ever after.

He didn't have to be so mean to her.

The ten year old sniffed slightly, wondering why it was taking so long to turn into sea foam; maybe she was doing it wrong. Flipping over into a dead man's float, DG let the memories of that morning wash over her.

_"Who's that Daniel?"_

_ "Oh, just a little girl I teach swimming to."_

_ "Ha! Just some little girl who saved Daniel's ass more like. Atta be Prince, saved by a grade schooler."_

_ "Shut up, it wasn't like that."_

_ "Oh, what was it like then?"_

In the conversation that followed, DG's prince hadn't just belittled her existence, he'd laughed at her with his friends, downplayed her actions in his rescue, ignored her, and, worst of all, kissed some other girl right in front her – some big girl, with boobs and everything. The little mermaid had been heartbroken. Popsicle had tried to get his baby girl to talk to him on the way home but DG wasn't having anything of it. She knew the story, the Little Mermaid refused the dagger given to her by her sis-...by someone and had jumped into the sea to become sea foam. There was only the river accessible to her, but it really ought to do, except it was taking really long and she was going need to breathe soon...

A sudden splashing sound attracted her attention; it wasn't rippling and cheerful like the river, it was frantic and hurried, and drawing rapidly nearer. Before she could react, however, an arm hooked around her waist, heaving her upwards so abruptly that she took a surprised gasp of air and water that left her sputtering and coughing while the unknown person hauled her out of the river and dropped her gently on the bank.

"I was trying to turn into sea foam!" DG shouted indignantly up at the rude being as soon as she could draw breath to do so.

Officer Gulch stared back down at her, his previously furrowed brows shooting up in a look of complete incomprehension. "What?" he uttered blankly.

"The Little Mermaid gets rejected by her prince and then she turns into sea foam," she huffed in frustration, "You should know that, the book used to be yours."

"You didn't hit your head did you?" the cop asked in concern, doing a quick scan for any visible damage.

"_No!_" the ten year old yowled in aggravation, "Daniel said I was his little mermaid but he ignored me and was kissing the sea witch," a chill ran down her spine but it had no power to distract her from her anguish, "and my heart's broken so I'm going to turn into sea foam just like the story says."

The policeman sat back on his heels still staring at her in abject bemusement, his mouth opened and closed once before lips worked silently around the words _mermaid, sea witch, Daniel, prince_...Officer Gulch blinked. "Are you talking about Daniel Prince?" he ventured at last.

"Of _course_ I'm talking about Daniel Prince, stupid-head!" the heartbroken girl snapped. He was so _slow_ sometimes.

The cop's eyebrows, meanwhile, had furrowed once more. "What did he do?" he demanded.

Anger instantly doused by cold, harsh reality, DG's lip quivered as she replied tremulously, "He _laughed_ at me. Said I was just a silly little girl with a crush and...and that I hadn't really saved him, 'cause...because..."

Officer Gulch's eyes widened as the ten year old's voice took on the telltale quaver of someone about to cry. "Well you did save him," the cop said hastily, "and if he's too dumb to realize it you don't want him anyhow."

"Yes I do!" DG fired back, accustomed stubbornness in the face of confrontation taking the floor and knocking anguish on its butt for the moment, "He's a prince and he was _my_ prince and he said I was his little mermaid – he_ did_ – and it was just like the fair...y...tale...and...and..." losing steam she trailed off miserably, "he didn't have to be so mean to me."

"Yes, well, you did give him a swift kick to the ego," the policeman commented mildly, "boys are rather vulnerable in that particular area, which is why you don't really want Daniel Prince anyhow. _Teenage_ boys in particular are prone to the kind of stupidity that, well meaning as many of them are, leads them to be..."

"Big meanie poo-poos?" the wounded girl supplied as the cop paused for thought.

"...big meanie poo-poos," Officer Gulch agreed solemnly, "which is why you don't want a _boy_, you want to wait a bit and find yourself a _man_. Someone whose outgrown the boy, gotten some confidence in himself; someone older, more mature, reliable; someone you can depend on through thick or thin...someone sturdy," he added, eyeing her speculatively, "possibly bulletproof."

Rolling her eyes in exasperation, DG protested, "_Nobody's_ bulletproof."

"Fine," the cop replied urbanely, "_you_ find a fellow that answers the rest of the criteria and _I'll_ give him a bulletproof vest so that he stands the slightest chance of surviving _you_."

Booting him lightly in the shins, the ten year old demanded, "What are you going to get me then?"

"Plane tickets, so I can send you far, far away," he replied promptly, "then maybe I can get a real day off."

"I'd rather have a motorbike," the big blue-eyed girl opined.

"DG on a two-wheeled death machine," the policeman commented, staring off into the middle distance and rubbing his left bicep absently, "what could possibly go wrong?"

Watching the movement, DG asked hesitantly, "You're arm all better now?"

"Hmmm? Well I don't know, let's test it shall we?" he suggested, hooking a hand around her ankle, and with a swift motion, hefting her into the air. "Seems to work just fine," he remarked to the now giggling girl, "How's the broken heart doing?"

"It's got gigglies bubbling out the cracks," the ten year old shrieked with laughter as Officer Gulch caught hold of her other ankle, flipping her around to hook her knees over his shoulders, carrying the upside down girl like a sniggering backpack as he strode off in the direction of home.

"Glad to hear it. Just remember," the policeman stated wisely, "time heals all wounds, that," he added with a slight smirk, "and wounds all heels."

DG had no idea what he was talking about, but she did notice a week later that Daniel Prince didn't seem the least bit princely as he whined about the massive ticket some hard-assed cop had given him.


	7. Bored

_Disclaimer: dis I no claim._

_Author's Note: This is not the chapter some might think it is right off the start, but it is a chapter that explains a few things in 'The Courting of Officer Gulch'. I kind of feel like we're in a bit of a holding pattern at the moment, but have no fear, development shall begin soon. Trying to get as far as I can before exams shut me down again._

* * *

...

* * *

Elmer Gulch took a moment, as he watched his handhold slowly giving way under the current stresses being applied to it, to contemplate his health insurance premiums. They were ridiculously high for a man of his age, full of youth and vigour as he was. Sure, his profession wasn't helping; it was, on average, a high risk occupation, the kind of thing that was bound to make insurance adjusters twitchy. But it wasn't his job that was truly driving up the rates, at least not directly – he was fairly certain that mischievous demon wasn't a general occupational hazard for policemen, he hoped not anyhow, for their sake. He wondered what kind of health plans the Vatican gave; it seemed to be more their kind of thing after all, and it wasn't particularly fair that he should be charged with picking up their slack. Unjust as it may be, however, it did appear that his rates were about to climb again. There was only one way he could think of at the moment to give DG anything approaching a soft landing, and as his handhold was making an ominous creaking sound he really didn't have time to come up with anything better. _Well, crud._

It had been such a wonderful morning, too; one of those idyllic summer days that made you think that world couldn't be anything but beautiful and peaceful. Driving with the cruiser window rolled down, his arm propped inadvisably on the ledge, the wind in his face, and the sun turning the land to gold, the policeman couldn't have felt more content. The birds were singing, the sun was shining, there was rain in the forecast, Bobby Gibbons was duct-taped to a tree in his front yard, and the sky just couldn't get anymore blue...

Wait, what?

Apparently that forecast hadn't been for wet stuff falling from the sky, to the joy of farmers and their crops, but instead for a rain of T.O.A.D.S. – Terribly Over-Active DG Supervisionless, not to mention bored. As he cut the unfortunate Bobby free with his pocketknife, chiding the boy for allowing himself to be tricked into standing still long enough for the brat to tie him up in the first place, Elmer considered talking to his mom about lifting the babysitting ban she'd had in place ever since the girl had shot her 'little' boy. Wasn't exactly his favourite idea ever, but Mama Gulch could keep DG in check, while Shelly Gibbons evidently could not, and DG on the loose was a disaster just looking to happen.

Hopping back into his cruiser and following the direction of the petulant Gibbons boy's pointed finger, the policeman had no difficulty picking up DG's trail at the edge of town where she'd apparently decided the welcoming sign needed decorating. Mrs. Middlebury was going to have a fit about her flowers when she found out. Muddy footprints and scattered petals gave him something to track long enough for him to determine her next destination. It was unfortunate that the general store had decided to display its new slingshots so close to the marbles; good thing the owner was such an understanding soul, given the amount of broken glass he was still in the process of sweeping up when the cop arrived. Probably shouldn't have gifted the brat with one of them, but given the alarming domino effect her endeavours to make amends had on the shelving, it was really no wonder the man's judgement had been impaired by his desperation to get the little fiend out of his shop.

Casting about for her next direction, Elmer wasted no time in discovering the fate of DG's erstwhile slingshot. It had been traded in for young Tim Beckley's go-cart, which the cop shortly found a few blocks away, wrapped around a tree. Mildly alarmed by this, he checked in with the station only to be given a long list of complaints to check out. Since these seemed to be rather congruent with his current search, the policeman let out a premature sigh of relief before taking the shortest route to the most recent of these. Passing Daniel Prince's toilet-papered old beater of a car, Elmer spent a moment wondering if that was something he could ticket before deciding regretfully that he had rather more urgent matters to attend to, troublemaking imps being what they were.

The trail ran cold at the north end of town where old Ms. Beckley's little terrier was being uncharacteristically quiet - while extremely curious as to where DG had gotten the peanut butter, the cop was willing to chalk that one up to mitigating good deeds. Huffing with frustrating, Elmer grabbed his dad's old hunting binoculars out of the glove compartment – he'd taken to carrying them around not long after the little minx had moved to their small Kansas town and made her presence very much known. They were very handy in times like these when she..._son of a bitch!_

The cruiser tires squealed as Elmer threw himself back inside and took off at a speed that would have required him to ticket himself if he wasn't in the middle of performing his official police duty to serve and protect at the time. He understood the temptation, truly he did. That old cottonwood on the Kenney place had been tempting kids out of town and into its branches since long before he was born. He himself had made the half mile trek on more than one occasion as a boy, the Kenney's had always been good natured about it, but they were darn well on vacation and _he'd never tossed himself out of the branches and onto the roof of their house before._

"Hey, Officer Gulch! Look what I can do!" the eleven year old hollered jubilantly down to him as the policeman brought the cruiser to a screeching halt, almost crashing into said tree in the process, and rolled out of the car in his haste.

"DG, get down here right now!" the cop ordered, watching her anxiously as she threw her arms out to the side and began walking along the ridgepole.

"See, just like Anne of Green Gables," she crowed triumphantly, ignoring his command.

"Anne of Green Gables fell off and sprained her ankle and she had considerably less far to fall," he pointed out, well aware that it would have no effect.

"Well I'm not Anne," Puck's Disciple stated irrefutably, adding a slight skip just for emphasis.

"Gah!" the cop opined emphatically. He didn't know when he decided to climb the tree, but he was halfway up before he considered that a ladder would be much more useful at this juncture. Of course, the likelihood that the Kenney's had a ladder that was a) long enough and b) not locked up while they were gone was not great, and searching for one would take time that DG would spend dancing on the rooftop anyhow. The _smart_ thing under most similar circumstances would be to radio for help and wait for a fireman to come with a nice long ladder to safely retrieve the rascal on the roof, but this was not your usual circumstances, this was DG circumstances, which required someone go up there and make sure she stayed put and didn't fall off the roof in the meantime, even if it did mean he'd take a lot of ribbing from his fellow cops later on. Leastwise, that was the way he figured it at the time.

Landing unsteadily on the roof, Elmer made the unhappy discovery that the Kenney's needed to replace their shingling sometime soon, before managing to scramble to a relatively secure perch on the ridgepole somewhere towards the center of the house. Letting out a huff of resignation, the policeman glanced up at the girl currently balancing on the very edge of the roof as she checked out the view and asked, "DG, would you mind maybe coming over here and sitting down please?"

"Aw," she whined in response, "I was having fun!"

"DG, _please._"

Pouting for all she was worth, the eleven year old stomped petulantly back towards the cop, a wounded expression in her big blue eyes telling him just what a killjoy he was. Of course, as was in the nature of the universe where DG was concerned, she _would_ happen to stomp with particular emphasis right on one of those loose shingles that had given Elmer so much trouble, and it was very much in _his_ nature, when the shrieking eleven year old went careening down the roof, that he should dive after her.

And that was how one Elmer Gulch came to find himself hanging roughly two stories from the ground, contemplating his insurance premiums, with one hand endeavouring to maintain a grip on the Kenney's poorly maintained eaves trough and the other wrapped tightly DG's wrist. He wondered whether there was a way to get the girl back on the roof before his handhold gave way.

The eaves trough creaked again, twisting under the weight as it pulled away from the roof just a little bit more.

_Of course not_, the cop thought sourly. It gave out a moment later; acting on the only plan he had, Elmer tossed DG upwards as best her could as he fell, trying to get her clear of his mass so that when they hit, he'd be on the bottom. He almost managed it, too. The eleven year cried out in pain as policeman's hip landed on her leg, while Elmer added a pain-filled grunt of his own as the rest of DG landed on his ribs. They lay there a moment gasping for breath then the policeman forced his bruised muscles to cooperate as he made the agonizing motion to grab his portable radio.

"Hey Nancy?" he gasped into the thankfully still functional speaker, "Do you think you could get the hospital on the line and have Fred come pick DG and I up at the Kenney's acreage?...No, not under the tree, we're on the other side...Because DG prefers to fall off roofs...No, I can't...'Cause I fell off, too...Stop laughing at me," he grumbled as he signed off, "How are you doing over there?" he asked the eleven year old still propped against him.

"I think my leg's broken," she replied faintly.

"You know, I think mine is, too, along with a fair few of my ribs," Elmer mused as he weighed the possibility of a spinal injury against the none too cheerful idea of lying on a little girl's broken leg for however long it took for the ambulance to get there. Oh well, he'd already made plenty of stupid decisions that day, what was one more?

"What are you doing?" DG questioned a bit more strongly as the cop prepared to shift himself on his elbows.

"Getting off your leg," he replied reasonably.

"No, you can't, you might have hurt your spine, you can't move," she told him sharply.

"But your leg..."

"No! You can't move spinals, all the courses _you_ made me go to said so," DG interrupted mulishly swatting at his elbow. Seeing as the movement jarred his ribs, it stopped the cop rather efficiently.

"Fine," he wheezed, "what do you suggest we do?"

"We wait for Friendly Fred to come get us," she told him determinedly.

Sighing, Elmer complied; he hadn't really felt like moving anyhow.

Sitting uncomfortably in his hospital bed sometime later, the policeman decided the day hadn't turned out so bad after all. It might have been the wonderful painkillers they liked to pump through his system on what was becoming his alarmingly frequent visits – at this rate he'd end up in some kind of rehab program before they'd managed to get DG through to adulthood – but the sun was shining, his ribs were taped, his broken leg had been set and cast, and he'd been granted an unexpected holiday, what more could he want?

"I'm bored," DG's voice drifted into his room from somewhere down the hall where they were keeping her overnight for observation.

A great deal of clattering followed this pronouncement, along with a fair few yells from the orderlies and much scolding from the nurses. "Here," Elmer Gulch gasped, hobbling clumsily into the room and tossing the paper and pens he'd pilfered on the way past on top of her own cast, "amuse yourself without wrecking the place," he ordered, lowering himself slowly onto the bed, offering up his cast as an alternate canvas. He just needed a little rest, he considered as the pain of his ill-advised movements started to catch up with him, and if he woke up with drawings all over his face – which, judging from the smirk on DG's face, he was going to – well, that was a price he was willing to pay. Boredom was a heck of a lot more troublesome than he could remember, course, it had been a long, long, long time since he could remember being bored.


	8. Joyride

_Disclaimer: Couldn't you let me claim it just this once? No? Even though pretty much every character in here is mine? Still no? Fine, be that way._

_Author's Note: Rule of the farm: misadventures are all kinds of hilarious as long as nothing expensive gets broken...personal injuries do not necessarily take the fun out of it. Take my dad, for instance, who once ran _himself_ over with a tractor, he's never going to hear the end of it (and that ought to answer a few questions some of you might have regarding my mental processes)._

* * *

...

DG listened to the engine roar as she opened up the throttle; tires crunching on the gravel road, wind whipping in her hair, the twelve year old tasted freedom as she tore down the road, the world rushing past in a myriad of colours and blurs. She was one with the machine, she was speed, she was lightening...

...she was exaggerating like crazy. The old tractor was barely grumbling its way past 30mph, she could hardly feel the breeze squeezing through the slightly cracked window, and she sat in constant danger of being rattled right out of her seat. The fact that she wasn't supposed to take The Beast out on the road, however, lent just enough of a rebel factor to make up for the tractor's complete lack of zoom, much less zoom-zoom. There was just one thing she truly wished for at the moment.

"Let the air flow through you!" the girl howled, banging a fist futilely against the jammed window, desperate for some relief from the already sweltering temperatures of the cab. The greenhouse effect was just so inconvenient sometimes. Was that a stop sign?

She didn't have a chance to find out because a second later she became infinitely more preoccupied by the car that had suddenly appeared in front of her. DG froze in panic, The Beast, on the other hand, had no problem meeting this challenge. The front end of the opposing car slammed down, the world tilted crazily, tossing the twelve year old to the side as the tractor's right tires left a tread across the car's hood and smashed a deep dent in its cab. Then life got a bit spin-y as physics took to working out the various trajectories of force and mass. The Beast jounced once, twice, as the wheels came down off the trunk; DG was thrown from her seat as the tractor hit the ditch, slanting dangerously on two wheels before coming to rest at an awkward angle on one of Papa Gulch's fence lines.

Extricating herself from where she'd been wedged between the steering column and control panel, DG glanced out the back window in search of her co-winner of the accidental game of chicken only to find Officer Gulch kicking his way through the smashed safety glass of his cruiser's windshield. Fighting his way free, the cop hit the ground at a dead sprint, reaching the tractor in mere moments, climbing hastily aboard and wrenching the door open. He didn't look particularly surprised to see her, a myriad of expressions passing over his face before his lips settled into a thin, firm line.

"You alright?" he growled, looking her over from top to bottom, "Good," he grumbled as she nodded, "'cause I'm going to strangle you. Come on," he directed, reaching a hand down to help her out of the ruined cab.

Using the seat armrests as footholds, DG climbed out of the tractor whilst contemplating whether to inform him that his head was bleeding only to find that the good sense everyone claimed she didn't have advised against speaking. While listening to this good sense was something of a novel experience for the twelve year old, she was infinitely glad she had the moment she got a good look at the policeman's cruiser, what was left of it anyway.

"I'm sorry," DG blurted out, looking up at the cop with a big blue-eyed gaze that was every bit as sincere as it was guaranteed to get her off the hook.

But Officer Gulch merely looked at her, a muscle twitched in his jaw as he glanced from the haphazardly 'parked' tractor to his ruined vehicle where it had received its final blow from an inconveniently placed fencepost, and he turned silently to limp off in the direction of his parents' homestead. Chewing her lip in concern, the twelve year old followed hesitantly after. The policeman didn't say a word the entire walk back, DG had the uneasy feeling that she might really be in trouble this time.

"Elmer what...DG," Mama Gulch exclaimed upon their arrival, somehow managing to mix a warm welcoming with the motherly scolding in her tone. "Dear," she called into the house as she ushered them inside, "Elmer's brought DG over."

"I'll grab the first aid kit," Papa Gulch hollered back from somewhere upstairs.

"How'd he know we'd need the first aid kit?" DG wondered as Officer Gulch attempted to brush past his mother into the kitchen.

"Someone always needs it when you visit, DG," Mama Gulch responded, snagging her son's arm on his way by, "and where do you think you're going?" she demanded.

"I have to make some calls," the cop replied shortly.

"Not until you tell me why your head's bleeding and let me have a look at it, you don't," his mother informed him, "And don't you glare at me, young man," she added sternly, "Now how about you tell me what happened."

"What _happened_," the cop ground out, "is that _someone_ drove a f-"

"Elmer!" his dad barked, making his way into the room.

"-udging tractor over my g-"

"_Elmer!"_

"-osh walloping cruiser!" Officer Gulch almost snarled out of sheer frustration.

"She ran you over?" Papa Gulch repeated incredulously while DG considered giggling over the policeman's increasingly garbled sentence. Alas, her newly discovered voice of reason declared such an action to be inadvisable, made her a bit uneasy that, she had an odd feeling that voices weren't to be trusted.

"Cruiser's wrecked, tractor could be, too," the policeman confirmed grimly as his mother finally gave up on waiting for him to cooperate and just forced him to let her examine the cut, "we're lucky there were no serious injuries...yet," he contemporized, "Now would you _please_ let me go perform my duty and call in the accident?"

"Fine," Mama Gulch said, releasing him, "but you are going to let me take care of that cut when you are done," she ordered, "Now, DG, let me have a look at you."

Watching mournfully as the cop strode purposefully out of the room without so much as glancing in her direction, the twelve year old muttered woefully, "Officer Gulch is mad at me."

"Oh he's not mad at you," his mother assured her as she began to inspect the girl's various scrapes and bruises.

"She ran him over with a tractor, dear," Papa Gulch pointed out.

"He's just a bit upset..."

"His cruiser is wrecked, dear."

"I don't know what's wrong with him; he usually takes your adventures in better part..."

"You know, the cruiser that he spent half a year restoring because they couldn't afford to buy him a new one, dear?"

"...usually they make for a rather humorous story by the time he gets home..."

"His entire life probably passed before his eyes, dear, which would have involved a fair few highlights of DG's, er, exploits."

"...I don't know what's eating him..."

"He only just got back to active duty since their last misadventure, dear."

"...he must have had a bad day at work," Mama Gulch concluded as she fixed the last bandage in place.

"Whatever you say, dear," Papa Gulch agreed mildly.

DG stifled a giggle and wondered which, if any, of the two conversations she should respond to.

"Well I'm just glad no one was seriously injured," Mrs. Gulch stated, giving the girl a brief hug, "There, that's you looked after, now to track down that son of mine...where do you think you're going?"

Both her husband and her twelve year old neighbour froze guiltily in place. "Home?" DG replied hesitantly after a moment, she was pretty sure Momster and Popsicle would have begun to worry about her by now.

"Oh no, you're not," Officer Gulch's Momster refuted, "I'll call Hank and Emily to let them know where you – and their tractor – are, _you_ are going to go clean the barn."

"But..."

"But nothing," Mama Gulch told her firmly, "you are twelve years old, young lady, and that is more than old enough to take responsibility for your own actions. You may not be the first farm kid to take their daddy's tractor out for a spin, nor are you likely to be the last, but the consequences of _your_ particular joyride are landing on other people so you are going to do what you can to make up for it. The pitchfork and wheelbarrow are by the barn door, just make a pile in the laneway, Elmer can scoop it up with the tractor later. Now get to it."

DG didn't even think of arguing. Mrs. Gulch had that look to her that all mothers get when they mean to be obeyed, and Mama Gulch happened to be one of those mothers that could get any kid to toe the line with nothing but a single glance. And all things considered, she did deserve it, DG considered dejectedly as she wrestled the barn doors open, she had just destroyed a cop car and potentially wrecked an expensive piece of farm equipment all for a silly thrill after all, no wonder Officer Gulch was mad at her. Sighing, the twelve year old set to work making what amends she could.

The task was more than a little daunting; the barn obviously hadn't been cleaned in quite some time – one of those things that had fallen by the wayside while the cop had been recovering from his last visit to the ER. DG made a mental note to swing by and lend a hand the next time she accidentally hospitalized the policeman, it really was the least she could do.

She didn't know how long she'd been working before she happened to look up and see Officer Gulch standing in the doorway, his arms crossed over his chest as he leaned against the frame, watching her work. The silence was beginning to bother DG, the cop was generally all kinds of loud when she got up to mischief, scolding here, exclaiming there, always having something to say, not like this quiet...disappointment.

"I'm sorry," the twelve year old mumbled miserably, fidgeting with the pitchfork.

Another moment of silence passed. "Hank's tractor is reparable," the policeman said at last, "When you're done here you can come join me in the machine shop, I figure since you broke it you might as well help fix it. Oh, and brat," he added as he straightened up and turned to leave, "put these on before you give yourself blisters."

Catching the gloves he'd tossed her, DG slipped them on with a relieved sigh and returned to her task with renewed vigour. She had well over half a barn to clean yet, and it was going to be a good few hours before she was going to get anywhere near that tractor, but the twelve year old couldn't help but hum as she hefted another wheelbarrow load onto the steadily growing pile. _Apology accepted._


	9. Immunity

_Disclaimer: Why do I have to keep repeating myself? I'm just stating the obvious: do not own._

_Author's Note: I feel that I had something amusing to say today, unfortunately real life is currently trying to wipe the floor with me so I'm too sleepy to think what it was. There are going to be some posting delays from here on out, if not a complete dropping off the face of the planet, as exams are about to hit. Any writing that may occur will have to be at time-controlled intervals, and as I usually write the chapters in one sitting I don't know how that will go. We shall see._

* * *

...

Elmer Gulch, had someone asked his opinion on the matter, would not have considered it possible for two people to literally bump into each other in the middle of a Kansas field without at least one of them doing it on purpose. Given that one could see for miles in every direction on a clear day, the cop would have opined that said two people would have seen each other coming long before either had a chance to even think of running the other over...again. As it turned out, however, he would have been wrong.

Head down, running flat out and determined to get from point A to point B _right now_, DG hit the wool-gathering policeman at highest speed she was capable of and bounced. So deep in his internal musings that he'd ceased to notice his surroundings as he meandered his way home, Elmer escaped being bowled over only because of his body's reflexive bracing response to the movement in his peripheral vision. Blinking rapidly, Gulch rejoined the rest of the world and looked down to see what had hit him only to discover the Usual Suspect sprawled awkwardly on the ground na-

-and Elmer Gulch found himself intensely interested in a speck in the sky way out yonder. Whatever could the unknown object be? Was it a bird? Was it a plane? It probably wasn't Superman but he bet if he stared at it long enough he'd find out. Hastily stripping out of his t-shirt while he inspected his newfound favourite speck, the cop handed it over to furiously blushing thirteen year old, who put it on gratefully. It was fortunate that she was such a tiny little thing, allowing the t-shirt to fall almost all the way to her knees, as grown man in the middle of nowhere with a naked or scantily clad barely teen-aged girl was the kind of thing people tended to misinterpret. He, himself, would be tempted to shoot first and ask questions later if it weren't him.

"Do I even want to know?" the cop inquired mildly, unwilling yet to turn away from what he had decided was either a swooping bird or a crashing plane.

"Bobby Gibbons double dog dared me that I wouldn't go swimming naked in the river," DG muttered, tugging the shirt hem down, which was somewhat counterproductive to her purpose given that the neckline had slipped off one shoulder.

Closing his eyes in weary exasperation, the policeman sighed, "Let me guess, when you finished splashing around in the nice spring melt water, you discovered both Bobby and your clothes were gone."

"Pretty much," the girl growled in confirmation.

"Do me a favour, DG," Elmer requested dubiously, "don't wreck the town while you are having your revenge."

Blue eyes danced in response.

"That's what I thought," the cop grumbled in resignation, "Come on, brat, let's get you home."

DG was strangely quiet for the first couple of miles, it made the policeman distinctly nervous, especially when she kept shooting him considering glances. By the time they were less than a mile from the old Gale place he could take it no more.

"Alright, out with it, what are you up to now, Imp?" Elmer demanded.

"Nothing," the thirteen year old immediately denied.

"Uh-_huh_," the cop grunted sceptically.

"It's just..." she paused.

"_Uh_-huh," he groaned in resigned expectation.

Wide blue eyes turned to him with earnest pleading. "Officer Gulch," DG wheedled, "do you think you could talk to Momster and Popsicle for me, about letting me have a dirt bike?"

Elmer stared at the girl blankly.

"You see," she explained hastily, "JR's planning to buy himself a real motorcycle now that he's old enough to get his licence, and he said he'd sell me his old dirt bike real cheap if I wanted it. I've been saving my allowance and everything but Momster says no, so I figured if _you_ talked to her..." she trailed off, bringing out the big guns: the deprived street urchin gaze that seemed to suggest he was her only hope.

Elmer Gulch was well familiar with this gaze; he'd seen quite a few versions of it on several occasions, many of them painful, he seemed to have developed an immunity somewhere along the line. "You want me to help you convince your parents to let you buy a two-wheeled death machine?" he asked incredulously, "May I remind you that you ran me over with a tractor not too terribly long ago."

"If I had a dirt bike, I wouldn't have wrecked your cruiser," she pointed out, her eyes somehow managing to go wider still.

"No, I just would have ended up smearing you all over the road," the cop replied sarcastically, "I'm sure that would have made me feel _so_ much better. Not a chance, DG."

"But Officer Gulch," the thirteen year old protested.

_Are those tears in her eyes?_ the policeman whinged internally, _now that's just playing dirty._ It was incredibly hard to resist the watering eyes, especially when she added the trembling lip, but Elmer somehow found the strength. "No," he stated firmly, "you're not even old enough for a learner's permit, and what makes you think that anything I say will make any difference anyhow?"

Rolling her eyes as if he was missing the most obvious thing in the world, DG huffed in frustration. "Because they _listen_ to you," she declared emphatically, "you say it's a good idea for me to take swimming lessons, I get to take swimming lessons; if you say I should take CPR, they sign me up for CPR; if you say you think it's okay for me to have a dirt bike..."

"But I don't think it's okay for you to have a dirt bike," he pointed out, "you're enough of a danger to yourself as it is on two _legs_."

"You're only saying that because you're worried about ending up in the hospital again," the thirteen year old grumbled sourly.

"Actually the concern is about fifty-fifty on that one," the cop commented, unperturbed.

"But I _promise_ I won't run you over with it," DG assured him, going for the earnest soul stare this time, "I won't even run over Bobby," she added with an ardent tilting of her head.

Alas poor Woeful Waif, but one Officer Elmer Gulch truly had been inured, or at least accustomed enough that common sense could overcome instinct before it did something stupid, like give in. "Sorry, brat, but you're on your own for this one," he told her regretfully.

Looking up at him like he'd just shot her puppy, DG lamented hopelessly that she would never have a dirt bike. Trudging dejectedly into the farmhouse not long after, the girl confirmed the uneasy suspicion the cop had had all along that she had indeed become a teenager. Doubtless he'd ruined her life forever for a week at least, more if Hank had made similar progress in building up a resistance to the Big Blue Eyes of Doom – he really should have, the man had more exposure after all.

_I should be so lucky,_ Elmer Gulch thought just a few days later, not particularly surprised to be obliged to pull DG over for driving her newly purchased dirt bike on the highway without a permit. Let off with only a warning and an escort home, the thirteen year old was equally unsurprised when she discovered a package on the front porch the next morning containing a helmet, a booklet on the Kansas motorcycle laws and a registration form for a motorbike safety course. Nor was anyone was the least bit surprised when Bobby Gibbons woke up one morning to find the contents of his room duct-taped to the ceiling. That was technically breaking and entering but it wasn't like the policeman had any proof, besides, he was too busy being impressed that she'd managed the feat without waking anyone up, not to mention more than a mite worried that she'd had the ingenuity to get almost all the way to town on a noisy dirt bike without being seen. It took her less than a month to wreck the damn thing, fortunately it only took three days for the cop to teach her how to fix it. Or unfortunately, depending on who you asked.


	10. Darwin

_Disclaimer: It's backwards day! I own this. Sigh, such a teasing day is backwards day._

_Author's Note: So apparently I can get a lot done during study breaks and minor cases of insomnia (Note to self: fix sleep schedule). I remembered what I wanted to say in my last AN: a great number of you are now wishing to have Gulch for their big brother, I personally would have other plans for him if I met him in real life, but I can understand the temptation – he certainly is nicer than my big brother. Not that there is anything particularly wrong with my big brother, he'd drive me to the hospital if I needed to go there (has in fact) – would make me go in on my own power (did in fact), but at least he'd take me – I think maybe the respective age gaps might be a factor. As for my big sister, well, Quality Control has proven herself weak to MY big blue eyed gaze, even transmitted across the continent via text messaging. She tried to claim immunity for a bit, but since you are getting this now and not sometime later tonight, well, I guess you know who needs further inoculations. Props to her on the title by the way._

_PS Didn't I say there were going to be posting delays? I thought I did. Must have been backwards day._

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* * *

DG was well aware that she had done a lot of stupid things in her life: performing stunts that ought, by anyone's calculations, to have wiped her right off the face of the planet, listening to dares and taking bets that any particle of common sense should have told her were a bad idea, and following her curiosity into places that had likely proven deadly to the proverbial cat nine times over. The fourteen year old couldn't count the number of times she'd turned on the TV to see one of those farm accident awareness ads and hear about how so many kids had lost limbs and lives due to an unhappy altercation with some piece of equipment or other – and none of them had ever _purposely_ stuck their head in a running combine before. She knew full well that _there but for the grace of God, good luck and stubborn cops go I._ DG would be the first to admit it if she didn't want give a certain policeman the right to say I told you so. Officer Gulch often told her she was the living exception to Darwin's rule; the fourteen year old privately thought that he must be the living proof.

Darwin might have finally won this round, though.

The farm girl had often come to grief over her continuing antagonistic battles with childhood enemy Bobby Gibbons – though score was generally in her favour more often than not – and she certainly should have known better, unfortunately there was just something about a double _dog_ dare that DG just couldn't seem to resist. Not to mention that this particular stunt had the added lure of driving Officer Gulch right up the wall, something DG had been doing with enthusiasm ever since someone had managed to convince the policeman to help chaperone the trip to the Colorado Rockies her class had won in a state competition last fall. Hopping over the protective barricade was sure to get his goat all on its own, walking right out to the brink to look down was guaranteed to prove to Bobby that she was no coward, while dancing along the edge was just something she did because DG never could help but push things just that little bit further.

As it turned out, Officer Gulch didn't even have time to freak out, only to bellow her name in horror and fear as he turned to see the fourteen year old take a wrong step and plummet over the edge.

It was amazing how the mind could slow the world down when facing the very real possibility that the next couple of seconds might be all the time you had left. She only had a fraction of a second before her classmates disappeared from view, yet it was more than sufficient for every single dawning expression of shock and alarm to sear itself on the back of her mind, the beginnings of a panicky tableau. The cop, already pivoting in place as instinct overrode frozen intellect, was still too far away, the distance impossible to cross in an instant no matter how hard he tried. He wouldn't be able to stop her falling, she realized as cliff face filled her view, nor would he be at the bottom to catch her. She was on her own and all she could do was think light thoughts and try to land feet first and rolling. _Sorry Momster, Popsicle, O_…the world went incredibly bright and then there was pain, pain, pain.

Gasping down anguished breaths, the fourteen year old got lost in a confusion of sensory overload. Everything hurt as the sky spun drunkenly overhead, there was a great deal of clattering and screaming, and she just couldn't make sense of…twitching a hand, DG nearly passed out from the agony it induced. Closing her eyes, the girl wept for misery; she wanted her mommy, her daddy, her…lavender eyes stared back at her in concern then they were wiped away by a fresh wave of pain that settled into a deep throbbing ache. It was _everywhere_, trapping her in the darkness, in the agony, then somewhere nearby something hit the ground with a resounding thump.

DG opened her eyes to see the ghost-white face of Officer Gulch appear above her.

"DG, can you hear me DG?" the cop asked almost…frantically. The fourteen year old had never seen him so scared in her life.

"H-hurts."

Letting out an explosive sigh of relief, the policeman's voice steadied as murmured comfortingly, "I know, Imp, I know it does. I need you to hold still for me now okay?" he instructed as he placed trembling hands, stilled with an effort of will, on either side of her head to stabilize it, "Help is on the way, I need you to stay with me okay? Talk to me, DG."

"M-my turn," she uttered vaguely in response.

"What's that?"

"My t-turn to fall," DG told him fuzzily, "only fair, I let go, s-should f-fall, I sh-should…"

"Shh, DG, shh, it's okay, no one's falling, you're not falling, I've got you," Officer Gulch reassured her, "Ms. Beckley's calling for the ambulance and Bobby's – _OUCH_," he exclaimed suddenly as there was another dull thud, "Bobby's beaning me over the head with my darned first aid kit," he continued with a grumble, "genius plan that, concuss the only person on hand to help."

Hurt though she did, the fourteen year old couldn't help but giggle at the accustomed exasperation in his voice, unfortunately it made everything ache even worse. "Ow," she gasped.

"Hey now, brat," the cop said gently, his brows furrowed in concern, "how about you hold off laughing at me until you are in better shape to do so, then you can laugh all you want, alright?"

"O-okay," she agreed breathlessly.

DG drifted after that. Officer Gulch kept interrupting the haze as he began cataloguing her injuries, splinting and bandaging as he went, asking her questions, keeping her conscious, keeping her there. Then the rotating helicopter blades appeared overhead and time fractured altogether…

"…can you hear me, DG? I'm Dr…"

"Take her up…"

…_so loud…_

"…en route to hospital with one patient and accompanying…"

…_falling, let go, falling, don't let her fall…_

A hand managed to find some place that didn't hurt. "It's alright, DG, I've got you, you're not going to fall, you're safe."

…_don't let go…_

"I'm sorry, sir, you can't come in here…"

"Has someone called her parents…?"

"…she waking up?"

"…did you _see_ him…vaulted the freaking railing…"

"…practically threw himself over the cliff…"

"…visiting hours are over. I'm going to have to ask everyone to leave…"

…_blackness …_

It was dark when she woke up. From somewhere nearby came the familiar and oddly reassuring sound of a beeping monitor, an IV drip, and the subdued noises of a hospital at night. The pain was mostly gone now, distant and muted, her limbs felt heavy, tied down, and she was thirsty, so very, very thirsty. Turning her head, DG peered groggily about the room in search of the water she was pretty sure would be around there somewhere only to catch sight of the figure leaning in the doorway, arms crossed tightly over his chest, watching her.

"You're not allowed to die," Officer Gulch informed her quietly after a moment, "excepting I strangle you myself, kapeesh?"

"Kapeesh," the fourteen year old rasped in response, "thirsty."

The cop snorted. "Figures," he muttered, striding noiselessly into the room to fetch the water from its hiding place, "How do you feel?"

"Float-y," she replied, sipping gratefully, the water hitting her parched throat like a soothing rain.

"That's 'cause they're giving you the good stuff," was the policeman's knowledgeable response, "I brought you a hospital survival kit," he added, nodding to a lumpy shape in the nearby chair, "Had the girls raid your bag for your art supplies, it's a good thing you broke your left wrist not your right since the broken ribs and collarbone are bound to limit your activities for a bit. Not that I trust mere sprained ankles to immobilize you well enough to protect the poor, ignorant hospital staff from annihilation; they don't know what they're up against unlike the folks back home. Speaking of, your folks are on their way, they ought to be here in a few hours, I'm holding down the fort until then."

"Mmmm, mom n' dad?" she slurred, feeling suddenly drowsy now that her thirst was slaked.

"They'll be here soon," he confirmed, setting the cup aside, "bearing one of my mom's hospital food prevention packages, you go back to sleep and it will seem like only moments."

"N-not tired," the fourteen year old declared drowsily.

"Ever the stubborn one," the policeman sighed, tucking the blanket up under her chin, "well, if you want I can always read you these nice rock climbing course brochures I have here. Maybe they have some tips about holding onto things so you don't fall off cliffs."

"Wha' 'appened to yer hand?" she asked, her eye caught by the movement.

"Hmm? Oh, the splint, it's nothing, just twinged it a little trying to get down the cliff is all."

Blinking blearily at him, her next thought was lost as lassitude began to creep in on her. "W-whaaaaaaaat time is it?" DG yawned.

"About three thirty in the morning," the cop answered.

"Ish-isn' that past visitin' hours?" she murmured sleepily, struggling to keep her eyes open.

"Ah, well, that's the advantage to having a badge," Officer Gulch rumbled soothingly, as the fourteen year old lost the battle and drifted back to sleep, "even if it is the wrong one."


	11. Life

_Disclaimer: Still don't own Tin Man and Shakespeare has been sneaking his lines into my stories again...at least I think that's where it came from. Shrug._

_Author's Note: All I have to say is: I'msorry,IknowIhaven'teverdonethistoyoubeforebuti thadtohappen. __And it was not easy.__ I do recall warning you that humour wasn't the main focus of this story, and this chapter was one of the ones I had in mind at the time. If anyone feels like hugging Gulch, Azkadellia is giving a onetime only pass, have at him._

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Elmer Gulch stood in the kitchen staring at the chicken veggie casserole in his hands as if trying to fathom some deep, hidden meaning within. The significance of the dish was far from being hidden, however, subtle, yes, but so very clear, and the feeling was as deep as it got. Mom and Mrs. Spencer always got so competitive during the cook off season they could hardly talk to each other, their every conversation taking on that awful civility that suggested they were one twitch away from going for the throat. This year had been particularly tense as they constantly sniped verbal shots over each other's bow while everyone else tried desperately to keep out of the crossfire. Neck and neck throughout all the events, swapping honours in each successive category, Maggie Spencer nearly had a meltdown when Mama Gulch's homemade lasagne edged out her formerly prize winning casserole to clinch the ultimate prize. She should consider herself lucky, the cop mused, had his mother decided to unleash her ultra-secret-chicken-noodle-cure-for-all-that-ails-ya during the soup competition, ol' Farmer Spencer's wife never would have stood a chance. Not that Mrs. Gulch would have ever sullied her miracle broth by entering it in a mere contest: that soup was only given to those that needed it. Had only been. Standing there, staring at the second place casserole, seeing Maggie Spencer's tear-filled face as she'd handed it to him, Elmer couldn't help but wonder what it felt like to have your lifelong nemesis die.

Moving slowly on heavy feet, the policeman carefully placed the dish in the refrigerator. A moment later he shifted it one shelf lower; inferior casserole did not belong on the same level with his mom's lemon meringue pie. Neither of the women, who had been bitter rivals since they first started baking pies for the diner at age sixteen, would have appreciated it, there were protocols to be observed here.

Closing the fridge on the last pie his mother would ever bake, Elmer stood at a loss for what to do next. The pictures on the door documented the life of the family Gulch: old childhood photos shared space with the picture they'd taken at his graduation from the police academy; newspaper clippings of his mother's victories and his father's prize winning bull; a rough scrawl of a drawing Mama Gulch had refused to let her son take down, looking even more pitiful when compared to the artwork of DG that had made its way onto the refrigerator since _someone_ hadn't produced any grandkids...

The cop flinched away from memory lane, fleeing the kitchen only to drift aimlessly to a stop in the garage. He had to question how his subconscious thought this was any better, moving from his mother's stronghold to his father's. The garage was cold and empty, the carport vacant, awaiting a vehicle that would never return, leaving only echoes of the past to fill the space. The farm boy grasped at the vice-grip to steady himself.

Elmer wondered if it was better or worse this way. Better because he didn't have to watch one of his parents shatter and break as he desperately tried to hold everything together? They had almost never been apart after all. They'd been one of those couples, the ones that knew even as children who they were meant to be with. When his father had followed restless feet into the military upon graduating high school, everyone had thought that was the end of the childhood sweethearts, that she would move on or that some other girl would catch his eye, but she didn't move on, and he'd rearranged heaven and earth in order to come tearing back the second he found out someone else was trying to catch _her_s. It would kill his dad all over again if he'd known he'd taken mom out with him; his mother, meanwhile, would only be glad that when her husband had that stroke and lost control of the car they hadn't deprived a family of the father of three in the oncoming vehicle. It seemed almost right, somehow, that they should shuffle off this mortal coil together...

...but that was where the worse came in, because for a full grown man he sure had the need to cry to mommy or daddy right now.

Shuffling wearily back into the house, Elmer couldn't help but notice how quiet it was, like a tomb. There were no clattering dishes accompanied by the homey, mouth watering smell of baking, no sounds of wrenches being hurled across the garage because some stubborn bolt didn't want to cooperate, no muttered swears that cut off abruptly as soon as there were ladies present, there was no life. There was only silence, heavy, oppressive silence that weighed him down, ground him into jagged edges, and-

-was utterly decimated by the not so distant sound of screeching tires followed by a strangely muffled crash. Apparently he had a visitor, three guesses as to who, the first two didn't count.

DG was limping her way up the driveway by the time he flung the door open. Sighing with relief – if she was moving on her own power she couldn't be that hurt – the cop contemplated his next response. A small portion of his mind wanted to be furious with her for almost letting another damned crash rip someone else out of his life, but that he knew to be misplaced anger, besides it was having too much difficulty fighting against the equally irrational gratitude for a tiny bit of normalcy around here to really get going. The girl had been far too well behaved since her cliff diving incident last spring, it was starting to freak him out, worrying about what exactly she'd get up to once the cautious phase wore out. He could, he supposed, give her grief about driving her dirt bike on the road without a license, but, frankly, he was on leave and he hadn't actually seen her do it anyhow. _Besides_, he thought as the puffy-eyed fifteen year old halted awkwardly on his doorstep, _there was more than enough grief going around as it was._ And there really was only one response for that.

"Hey there, Imp," he murmured, enfolding her in a hug he needed every bit as much as she did.

"I'm sorry," DG croaked, wrapping her arms around him in return and bursting into tears, a young girl making her first real acquaintance with death.

The grieving son tightened his arms around the oft borrowed neighbour's daughter, who tightened hers as well. They stood there a while trying to break each other's ribs before Elmer finally stepped back and muttered, "We ought to get you cleaned up. Come on, in with you, I'll grab you a towel and something to change into, you know where to find the first aid kit, just leave your clothes in the doorway to be washed."

"You know how to do laundry?" the fifteen year old asked sceptically, just a hint of her usual sparkle lurking in the back of her eyes.

"Who do you think raised me?" Mama Gulch's boy queried archly in that moment before reality slams home again. "Here, get going," he added gruffly, handing her a towel out of the linen closet. The teenager sniffed, tried to blink back impending tears and fled into the bathroom.

Glad to have a task to distract him, the policeman was further grateful to discover a load of clean, folded laundry sitting on the dryer, waiting to be put away. Elmer wasn't entirely sure he was ready to face his parents' room just yet, but this, this he could do. DG still wasn't all that big of a girl, but then neither had been his mother; the clothes should fit well enough. Piling a selection outside the bathroom door, the cop scooped up the small heap of damaged cloth and eyed it doubtfully. He knew how to do laundry, sure, didn't mean he was any good at it. In all likelihood he was about to make these worse, not that they were anything but destined to be work clothes anyhow – she'd gotten twigs embedded in them.

Standing over the washing machine some fifteen minutes later, Elmer Gulch once again found himself contemplating deeper meanings. Cleaning out the pockets of the torn and dirty clothing, the cop had found a homemade card within. There were no words in the card; she hadn't been able to find them, so instead she'd filled it with drawings, dozens of them, all of his parents doing different little daily tasks. Moments of life, and bless her heart and skilful hands, his parents looked so very alive for all it was pencil on paper. The card was in pristine condition, despite the mess that constituted the rest of her. Closing his eyes in exasperated disbelief, the cop was willing to bet that the blasted girl had somehow ended up crashing her bike in order to save the damned card. It was so DG.

Setting the card gently down on the dryer, the policeman turned and strode down the hall to the one room he'd been unable to enter. There was something he needed to find.

The fifteen year old standing was standing in the hall, fidgeting uneasily, when he re-emerged. "Here," he muttered hoarsely, "mom never had much chance to wear it but I think she'd like you to have it. She always did love hearing about your adventures, could have done with a little less damage on all sides, though, maybe this'll help."

DG's lip trembled as she reached out for the leather bomber jacket. She stood there a moment swallowing hard then she just threw herself forward to wrap her arms around him once more. "You're going to be okay," she wept, squeezing him as hard as she could, the girl was deceptively strong, "somehow you're going to be okay," she told him again.

Struggling briefly with the lump in his throat, Elmer finally managed to utter, "I know. Someday." Casting about for something else to say, something to do, he thought again of the card full of pictures, pictures that were worth well beyond a thousand words."Where's your bike?" he asked at last.

Choking on a watery giggle, the fifteen year old pointed through the window to the tree line his grandfather had planted several decades ago for privacy and a wind break. A couple of feet off the ground, the sun glinted off something metal.

"Of course," the cop muttered faintly, "How on Earth did you manage that?" Sighing, he added, "Come on, I'll go get the chains."

_Life, it does go on_.


	12. Retaliation

_Disclaimer: There's some lack of ownership going on here, potentially of more things than Tin Man but I wrote this chapter last night and exam brain is unable to recall what it is. I'm pretty sure it doesn't have anything to do with MMT. Odd if it did._

_Author's Note: So some of you (including Quality Control) seem to think I am being mean to Gulch...um, *runs away*._

_PS Officer Gulch would like to apologize to the ladies present for some of the language in this chapter, not that it was his fault._

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DG crouched down beside the barn, hiding behind the long grass and assorted farm implements, trying to get the lay of the land – or the emotional environment as it were. Officer Gulch was reacting true to form, throwing himself into the nearest manual labour he could find. Apparently he'd decided to cut enough firewood to last him for the next couple decades or so, the sixteen year old wondered what small forest had been denuded of trees in order to assuage the cop's inner turmoil. Watching the steady swing of the axe, the farm girl could almost hear the thoughts, the memories that were doubtless replaying in the policeman's mind as he tried to drown them out with physical exertion.

Whoosh, thunk.

"_What did you expect?"_

Whoosh, thunk.

_"You think that we had something special? That I was going to settle down with you, have 2.5 kids, live in a house with white picket fence?"_

Whoosh, thunk.

_"You think I want to get stuck is this pathetic little town like you let yourself be?"_

Whoosh, thunk.

_"I've got too much ahead of me to allow myself to be tied down to some small town cop..."_

Whoosh, thunk.

_"...honey, you were just a way to pass the time..."_

Whoosh, thunk.

_"...you're a nice guy Elmer, but you know how it is: nice guys finish last."_

Hands clenching into fists around her offering, DG growled. She'd wasn't a violent person, but at that moment she'd have loved more than anything to have been able to give that _bitch_ a lesson regarding the proper treatment of Officer Gulch. There was precisely one person allowed to make the cop's life miserable, and until someone else came along that could be counted on to do it with a measure of kindness, the girl was not about to share the privilege.

Unfortunately, DG had been constrained by circumstances not to intervene. She, like everyone else, had not expected the cop's arrival on the scene – the sixteen year old had been in the midst of a dilemma over what to do with certain new information she'd stumbled upon when he'd come through the door, causing DG to scramble for cover lest she be discovered. Mr. Honest Cop had a tendency to take exception to things like teenagers trying to acquire alcohol after all. As it was, however, the policeman had been too preoccupied with finding his supposed girlfriend in a rather compromising position with one of the local truckers to even consider checking for miscreants. Officer Gulch had just stood there, frozen in place, staring at the woman as she rained mockery down upon him. Trapped in her hiding place, cut off from the exit, DG had been forced to just sit there and listen, knowing full well that it would only be worse for him if he knew she was present.

By the time it was over, the sixteen year old was weeping tears of anger and shaking with rage. He'd just begun to recover from the death of his parents, just started to regain his Gulchness, now, thanks to that harpy and the inevitable small town gossip, everyone knew Elmer Gulch's girlfriend had been sleeping around behind his back, completing his humiliation. There was no way DG was going to let that go unanswered for.

Whoosh, thunk.

Brought back to the present by the rhythmic sound of the axe, the farm girl wondered how he would take her solution. The policeman had been a bit more volatile than usual in his grief – if one could apply the word volatile to someone as even-tempered as Officer Gulch – and one never knew when he would decide to go all tiresomely Honest Cop on a person, there was a good chance he'd take issue to her actions. On the other hand, he was a great believer in justice...

The shrill beeping of his watch alarm interrupted the rhythm, resulting in an uncharacteristic fit of temper as the policeman flung his axe across the yard and pivoted towards the house. DG's squeak of alarm, however, as the axe bounced off the barn towards her, brought him up short. Dancing back hastily from the sharp edged missile, the sixteen year old realized she'd lost the opportunity to retreat unnoticed and hastily hid her hands behind her back.

"Sorry, DG, you alright?" Officer Gulch asked anxiously as he rushed forward to discover the source of the noise, "That was a da...dashed stupid thing for me to do...wait a minute," he cut off abruptly, blinking in realization, "what are you doing here?"

Hesitating, DG looked up at him sheepishly then slowly brought her hands into view. The cop blinked again. As the girl opened her hands to give him a better view, the policeman's head shot up to look at her with furrowed brows. Whatever his response would have been, however, it was forestalled by the roar of an engine and the crunch of gravel under fast moving tires.

"Get up into the barn loft, _right now_, and don't come down until I say so," Officer Gulch commanded, picking up the axe and moving back towards the wood pile.

By the time DG had herself hidden away in a good spot, where she could observe the coming confrontation, the vehicle was already tearing up the driveway towards the cop. The policeman, meanwhile, had gone back to chopping wood as if he'd never been disturbed.

"_Where is she?"_ the driver shrieked over the screech of tires as she brought the car to abrupt halt far closer to the cop than DG was comfortable with.

Officer Gulch glanced placidly at the bumper a mere two feet from his knees and replied urbanely, "Where's who?"

"You know damned well who I'm talking about," the woman snarled as she slammed her way out of the car, "she ain't at home which means she's come to hide behind her own personal bodyguard."

"Don't recall signing up to be anyone's bodyguard," the cop mused with rather convincing puzzlement, "you mind enlightening me?"

Sucking in an outraged breath, the woman glared at the policeman who looked back with utter unconcern. Had her face not been mottled red with rage and partially covered by the most ridiculous straw hat, she might have been considered pretty, as it was, however, she resembled nothing so much as a yapping pit bull as she spat, "I'm talking about the little _bitch_ you're always so worried about..."

"Language Roxanne," he interrupted mildly, carefully setting aside the axe, "there might be ladies present."

Eyes narrowing dangerously, Roxanne's lip curled back in a sneer, "I'll use whatever fucking language I please, when I please. You want to be a damn doormat that's you prerogative, _now where is the little bitch?_"

The cop looked to his left then his right before patting his pockets and replying, "Well I don't seem to have a mirror on me, perhaps the ones in your car would be of use?"

DG nearly crowed with laughter. _Go Officer Gulch_, she cheered. Roxie looked about ready to attack the policeman in her fury.

"_Where is DG?_" the woman ground out at last, "I know you're hiding her, you're the first person she'd run to."

The sixteen year old thought rather indignantly that she didn't need to hide from someone as petty as Roxanne; she was only doing so now on the policeman's orders. Besides it was incredibly satisfying to watch the generally non-confrontational cop get a little of his own back.

"May I ask why you are looking for her?" he inquired with continued feigned ignorance.

Roxanne almost blew up in response. "What did she do? What did she _do?_" the woman howled, "I'll tell you what she did you worthless, dirt licking swine," she bayed shrilly, but it shortly became unnecessary for her to do so as the wind chose that moment to catch her hat just right, sending it spinning into the dirt. The woman shrieked in alarm and dove after it, but not soon enough to prevent both observers from getting a good look at what had been hidden beneath. Roxie's head had been partially shaved in rough uneven patches, the hair that remained varied wildly between army regulation and two feet long strands. One eyebrow was completely missing; the other had random tufts ripped out of it. DG, carelessly sweeping off a board with the long red locks Roxanne had been so proud of, marvelled at how much one could accomplish when their victim was in the habit of taking sleeping pills.

The policeman, naturally, did not laugh at the woman's distress, he was merely choking on the dust the wind had kicked up.

Ramming the hat back down on her head, Roxanne hissed, "You _dare..."_ breaking off, apparently beyond words. "Fine," she yowled at last, storming back towards her car and wrenching open the door, "protect the little bitch, you can't always be there and when I get my hands on her I'm gonna-"

The car door slammed shut abruptly before she could enter. "You'll do what?" he demanded flatly in a tone of voice the town was gradually learning to recognize meant that they were no longer talking to Elmer Gulch, hometown boy, but rather Officer Gulch, local law enforcement. "You'll do what?" he asked again staring the woman down, "Threatening bodily harm is against the law, you hurt one hair on that girl's head and I'll have you arrested for child abuse before you can even gloat about it. Have a nice day, ma'am," he finished on a professionally distant note, removing his hand from the vehicle and stepping back.

Eyes narrowed in impotent rage, Roxanne spat venomously, "Speak for yourself, have fun chasing the little girl, maybe I'll bring some charges, make it easier for you." Slamming the car door behind her, she tore out of the driveway as viciously as she'd arrived.

More than a little peeved with the parting insult, but pleased with the encounter overall, DG practically skipped down the barn ladder and out into the yard. Officer Gulch was exiting the house when she arrived, carrying a large bag and a box of matches.

"Here," he said, handing them over to her, "the garbage needs burned, make sure you don't miss anything," he added with emphasis.

The sixteen year old's jaw dropped. "Officer Gulch," she gasped outrageously, "are you...could you _possibly_ be telling me to destroy evidence?"

"What evidence?" the cop inquired with raised eyes, "I didn't see any evidence. Saw you with a handful of hair, sure, but without something to compare it to, who's to say who it belongs to. Highly circumstantial that, could never get a conviction."

Grinning, DG skipped forward to give him a hug.

"You let me know if she gives you any trouble," he told her seriously.

Scoffing, DG said scornfully, "You think I can't handle _her_."

Lip twitching slightly, Officer Gulch mused, "I'm sure you could, but you know where to draw the line, I'm not entirely sure she does."

"What on _Earth_ were you doing with someone like her anyhow?" she asked severely.

"Love is blind?"

Snorting, she muttered back, "Hormones are at any rate."

"Oie!" the policeman protested.

Patting him on the arm, the sixteen year old hesitated a moment before mumbling, "Mama Gulch wouldn't have wanted you to settle."

Officer Gulch went utterly still. Opening and closing his mouth a few times, he eventually managed to murmur, "For someone who pulls as many stupid stunts as you do, you are disturbingly perceptive sometimes, do you know that?"

"Says the kettle," DG pointed out, "going for that bi-"

"DG."

"-tter hag when you could have pretty much any of the teachers at school and more than half the nurses at the hospital for the asking..."

"Eh?" the startled cop uttered.

Rolling her eyes, the teenager huffed, "You are so _oblivious_. Think about it, you've shown up I don't know how many times hauling a little girl you've just saved from some danger or other, fussing about like a mother hen..."

"Hey!"

"...the maternal instincts have got to be firing off the charts; you're lucky none of them have clubbed you over the head and dragged you back to the cave already."

"Are you giving me dating advice?" the flustered policeman demanded, "Miss Never Had a Date."

Turning her nose up in the air, DG fired back airily, "Not my fault that no one around here meets my standards," _somebody went and set the bar pretty damn high_, she added internally, "and we weren't talking about me, we were talking about how you need to find a nice girl, someone who appreciates you, someone who doesn't think that nice guys should finish last. If I ran the universe they wouldn't."

"Oh really," Officer Gulch commented drily, "I guess I'll just have to visit this universe sometime. You don't happen to have a long lost relative do you? Perhaps a cousin matching your specifications, a little older, a lot less crazy, decidedly less prone to getting me in trouble?"

"Aw, you'd be so bored if that were the case," the teenager pouted, "Besides I don't have any cousins, but I tell you what, I'll keep an eye out."

"Wonderful," he stated with mock solemnity, "now weren't you supposed to be doing something?"

"Ah yes, evidence to burn, you know," she speculated, waving the hair about, "for a moment there earlier I thought you were going to go Honest Cop on me for this."

"Hmm, well, thought about it, but..."

"But?"

Shrugging, he continued, "Officer Gulch happens to be off-duty right now, and he needs to take a break occasionally; Elmer Gulch, however," he added with a twinkle in his eye, "found it to be rather entertaining."

Giggling, DG averred, "Elmer Gulch is a menace."

"Too right he is," he agreed, "now scoot, there's some cinnamon buns in the oven that ought to be ready any minute now.

DG scooted; magic words, those.


	13. Up

_Disclaimer: Bobby is mine, mine I tell you – don't want him but it's true. Same with Roxanne, really don't want her but she is a bit of a gift that keeps on giving, so is Bobby for that matter. They are relatively well behaved plot devices so I shall tolerate them. Don't own Tin Man or Looney Tunes though, sigh._

_Author's Note: Ah, drunk talk, it's been a while, forgot how fun it is to write – and how irritating it is to go through with spell checker afterwards. Skip skip skipskipskipskipskip...meant to tell you last chapter but I forgot in the midst of the rest of the AN and lack of sleep: put a new poll up on my profile, am curious to see what those that care think. Will probably do what I feel like anyhow but muse is not completely beyond being influenced (which some of you exploit shamelessly). Please do feel free to vote._

* * *

...

Elmer Gulch really hated to be the party pooper; it was, without a doubt, one of his least favourite responsibilities. He, too, had been a teenager, and while he hadn't made a regular habit of it, he had been known, from time to time in his youth, to unbend a little at the occasional bush party. Given that there were more than a few spectacular stories still circulating of the times he had done so, it felt a little hypocritical of him be spoiling the kids' fun now. On the other hand, one of the most recurrent duties he faced in the course of his day was dealing with the local alcoholics, that and scraping people off the highway or seeing them taken to the hospital – or the morgue – as a result of drunk drivers or alcohol poisoning. Some of these kids could certainly do with a little slowing down, and in the end, the law was the law.

Sighing as he straightened up from removing the spark plugs from DG's motorcycle, Elmer mentally readied himself to play bad cop. Tossing the parts in the cruiser's glove box, the policeman flicked on the lights and siren. He liked to think that the imp was smart enough not drive while under the influence but it didn't hurt to take precautions. The seventeen year old was not adding herself to the list of sad statistics if he had anything to say about the matter, and the last thing a newly licensed driver needed was a DUI on her record.

Besides, it would be a shame for her to wreck her pride and joy – the motorcycle she had rebuilt, with only a little guidance, from the rusted mess JR had left behind when he had decided to upgrade to a flashy Harley. And then again when Roxanne had taken the opportunity to trash it in revenge for the many wrongs she'd claimed the teen had done her. Arresting Roxie for destruction of private property was the most fun the cop had had in ages. She'd tried to claim abuse of power or police brutality or whatever but it wasn't Elmer's fault that she wasn't as good as hiding the evidence as DG – not that anyone could prove that it was the seventeen year old who had 'decorated' the woman's trailer or doctored her make-up or...actually the list was a bit long for him to remember it all at present. He _had_ tried to persuade the teen that if she should _happen_ to know the perpetrator she _might_ try suggesting they cut it out now. Unsurprisingly, however, someone seemed determined to get their point across, so the pranks kept happening, and if certain motorcycle parts DG had despaired of fixing magically reformed or replaced themselves while she was at school, well he knew nothing about that.

The lights and sirens had the predictable effect on the gathering of teens, the bit of brush on Robert Gibbon's back fields suddenly stirred with the activity of a kicked beehive as kids desperately sought to avoid being caught. There were a variety of shouts of 'cops' and 'run' as Elmer strode purposefully forward, both wanting to give them a head start and yet still fulfill his purpose here.

"_Oh_," someone yelled in relief as the policeman stepped into the firelight, "it's Officer Fudd!"

Suddenly less inclined to be magnanimous – he _had_ hoped that particular nickname had at last died out, stupid Looney Tunes – the cop's head whipped around in search of the perpetrator just in time to see Bobby Gibbons trip up DG and peel off in the opposite direction.

"Go, go, go," the boy howled to his buddies as they angled themselves sharply away from the swearing girl, who scrambled hastily to her feet and ran for it.

Elmer Gulch, having done a quick visual sweep to make sure there were no teens passed out by the bonfires, took one look at DG's erratic path across the field and opted for the course of greatest damage control – as the other teens had known he would. The boys crowed in triumph as the cop altered course and sprinted after their unwilling decoy, it wasn't exactly fair, but a drunken DG was so much more hazardous than any twelve boys.

The seventeen year old girl cursed again as she glanced over her shoulder, catching sight of his pursuit, and picked up speed.

"Language young lady!" Papa Gulch's son called after her as he adjusted his speed to match. One thing he'd learned about DG over the years, besides her astonishing alcohol tolerance, was that she was a surprisingly fast runner – when properly motivated – for how awkward she looked while doing it. Given that she was the Energizer Bunny when drunk, and he was a habitual runner, they could quite possibly be at this all night.

DG's reply was lost in a garbled, panting breath as exertion, and perhaps alcohol consumption, caught up with her. It soon became clear, much to his disapproval, that she was trying to circle the chase back towards her motorcycle. He'd like to give her the benefit of the doubt that she wouldn't try to drive in her current condition if he weren't chasing her, but still...and then she veered sharply away, just short of the cruiser, without even trying for her bike. The relieved approval lasted approximately ten seconds, at which point the seventeen year old apparently decided the solution to her problem was up.

Up being the old water tower Elmer Gulch now deeply regretted having parked under. What did it take for the girl to realize that her in conjunction with heights never turned out well for either of them?

"DG!" he bellowed, skittering to a halt at the base of the metal ladder, "Get back down here!"

"No' 'til you shtop chasin' me!" she hollered back, continuing her climb.

"I'm _not_ chasing you," he pointed out, "See, I'm just standing here."

Pausing in her climb, the drunk teen peered down at him suspiciously. "Mov'away from da ladder," she commanded owlishly.

Sighing, the policeman obeyed, he didn't feel like falling off anything tonight. "There," he called up to her as he leaned against the cruiser, "_now_ will you come down?"

"Nope," the teenager chirped back, "Come an' ge' me." And, laughing, she started to climb once more.

"Brat!" the cop roared, surging back towards the ladder again.

"Menacesh!" she crowed, reaching the platform and disappearing from view.

Elmer Gulch did consider, in the moment before his feet hit the rungs, that playing her game and effectively egging her on might not be the best idea. On the other hand, though, if the girl decided to do anything stupid while she was up there – and she would – there wasn't a damned bit of good he could do her on the ground. _F-udge it_, he thought as he powered up the ladder after her.

Hitting the platform that rimmed the circumference of the water tank a few minutes later, the cop was less than happy to discover the seventeen year old was nowhere in sight. Skirting his way around the giant barrel, keeping an eye out below in case DG had actually managed to do something silently – like fall – Elmer did a complete loop of the platform without sighting the teen. There was the distinct possibility that the Demonic Drunk was skipping along ahead of him just fast enough to stay out of sight, the cop reversed course abruptly to see if he could catch her at it, the direction he should have been looking, however, was again _up_.

He had only a giggle and a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye to warn him, as the teenager leapt down from the water tank towards the ladder. Unfortunately, predictably, inevitably, she overestimated her drunken equilibrium and overbalanced on her landing, somersaulting over the railing as she fell. Elmer Gulch's feet were already pivoting at the first chime of laughter, his instincts long since honed to expect catastrophe where DG was concerned. Catching her wrist just as she disappeared over the side, the cop had time for precisely three thoughts in rapid succession: 1) _this railing is too damn low_, as he, too, flipped ass-end-over-teakettle, dragged down by the girl's weight; 2) an exasperated and resigned _well, here we go again_; and 3) a rather surprised and painful _hurk_ as his utility belt caught on some out-jutting scrap of metal or other.

DG, meanwhile, swung like a pendulum on the end of his arm, fetching up conveniently against the ladder and latching on almost as if she'd planned the whole thing. Holding on tightly for a moment while she got her bearings, the teen looked up at him in surprise then reached out _and yanked on his boot._

"Stop that!" the policeman yelped, trying to pull his foot away without swinging too much, unhappily aware of the precariousness of his position.

"Yush secur'," she told him, which he supposed was true: the teenager's less than brilliant test hadn't budged him at all. Then DG began to climb down.

"Oie!" Elmer protested, feeling around for some handhold or way to get himself out of this mess. The best he could do, however, was get a less than stable grip on the platform above, which at least let him relieve a little of the belt's pressure on his waist. He was going to have to write letter to manufacturers: _Dear makers of our police utility belts, I would like commend you for your wonderful job, they're nice and sturdy, holding up well under operational demands they weren't really designed for..._

The seventeen year old had by this time reached the ground and begun meandering her way over to where the cruiser was parked, its lights still flashing merrily in the dark. Reaching inside, the teenager grabbed the radio and slurred, "'Allo? 'allo? An'bo'y der? Oh, not on. Otay, now is an'bo'y der?"

There was a momentary pause then the radioed crackled, "_Who is this?"_

"Nanshy!" the girl replied cheerfully.

"_DG?"_ the cop on the other end exclaimed in surprise, "_What are you doing on the radio?"_

"I hafta reporta offisher up!" the drunk teen informed her dutifully.

Another pause. "_Can you repeat that please?"_

"Offisher up! You hava offisher up! You come get'im. I's gotta go, 'sposed ta be back by midnigh' an' I not in da condishun ta drife," DG replied helpfully, tossing the radio back into the cab.

"_Wait! DG!"_ the voice on the radio pleaded frantically, "_Where are you? Who...DG!"_

But the teen was already pointing herself in the direction of home.

"DG!" Elmer Gulch bawled desperately as soon as he realized she really was planning on leaving.

The teenager paused. "Ish otay," she assured him, turning around, "'elps on da way."

"_DG_," the cop tried again.

"Sorwee, bu' I gotta go, curfew," she explained reasonably, "tell ya wha'," she continued, stumbling back to the cruiser where the radio was still squawking, "I do dis," and she flicked on the siren.

"At least tell them where I am!" the policeman howled as the teenager once more turned away; unfortunately a curfew beckoned and the drunk teen, secure in the knowledge that she'd already called for help, began to wander her long way home.

Over the increasingly irritating noise of the siren, the radio crackled to life again, "_Calling all units, calling all units, has anyone got a visual on Officer Gulch?"_ Nancy said, having used her awesome powers of deduction, there was only the slightest quiver in her voice as she announced, "_We have an officer up, repeat, we have an officer up. Calling all units..."_

Hanging uncomfortably from his belt and fingertips, wondering how long it would take for anyone to find him, Elmer Gulch contemplated how peaceful his life would have been if he hadn't decided to drive past Farmer Spencer's bullpen that one day, an eternity ago. The distant figure currently wending her way across Robert Gibbons' field might never have disturbed him with the events he'd never live down or the constant mapping of every danger the small Kansas town could possibly provide. At least between his current elevation and the bright full moon, he could watch to see if she got home alright.


	14. Nemesis

_Disclaimer: As I explained to mommy when she wistfully commented that it would be nice if I could make money with my stories, I don't own Tin Man thus no can do. Also, don't own Spaceballs, from which I swiped one of my cousin's favourite lines._

_Author's Note: Soooo, I was joking with . that since Gulch is not based on anyone in life my brother was available if she wanted him. Mentioning this to my mother last night, she expressed regret that I didn't say that, oh yes, my brother was just like the character you all seem to adore, if only to encourage one of you to take him (she hasn't actually read any of my stories or watched Tin Man so she wouldn't know – don't want to get anyone's hopes up). Moms are scary when they've decided it's time for their kids to marry and settle down. But hey, anybody want my brother? 'Cause it looks like I have permission to put him up for grabs._

_PS I hereby dedicate this chapter to friendlyquark who has given me not one, but two early Christmas presents in the form of pretty pretty sketches based on 'Otherside Encounter' – any chance of turning it into the twelve days of Christmas? Eheheheh, just kidding. Anyhoo, I figured out how to put links up on my profile, so if you want to have a looksee you know where to go._

_PPS I am beginning to like this chapter style as a method of passing through time. Profanity warning, I do apologize._

* * *

...

* * *

DG couldn't believe her eyes, it wasn't right, it wasn't _fair_. She had had a crappy enough morning as it was: not only had her alarm clock failed to go off, but she'd had a hard time finding a suitable pair of shoes and hadn't had time for breakfast. The only highlight had been when she'd successfully managed to throw off certain irate pursuit with a quick shortcut through Farmer Spencer's yard, and yet despite all her effort she _still_ ended up being late for her first day of work at her new job. And then Carter had sent her out to deliver a slice of French apple pie and a chunk of cheddar to her very first customer...

Officer Gulch's look of mild surprise slowly morphed into a smug smile as he reached for his ticket book.

...

Elmer Gulch whistled his way out to his cruiser. It had been rather interesting to find that DG had managed to get a job at the Hilltop Cafe – named thusly by some ironic person considering there wasn't a hilltop for the diner to sit on – and the cop had been moderately pleased to thwart her attempts to avoid a speeding ticket. He'd even been so nice as to refrain from adding a fine for failure to stop. Humming in amusement as he mentally rearranged his highway patrol rotation, the policeman wondered what her work schedule was. Jingling his keys merrily, Elmer reached out to unlock his cruiser, only to discover that someone had shoved bubblegum in his locks – all of them.

The sound of laughter and a revving engine floated through the air as a certain teenage girl tore out of the parking lot. He was so going to get her for this.

...

The almost eighteen year old had to admit that there was a certain advantage to having a cop that you knew, when the chips were down, was definitely on your side. Not that this was exactly a desperate situation, just a matter of a trucker taking certain liberties with her hind end that she did not choose to allow, which she demonstrated by smashing her tray down on the offending limb.

"Fucking bitch!" the trucker howled in pain, "Broke my goddamn wrist," he growled, surging to his feet.

"Language," Officer Gulch's cool voice cut across the cafe, "there are ladies present."

Casting an incensed glance in the cop's direction, the man drew up short at the sight of the uniform. "Did you see that?" the trucker ground out furiously.

"Did I see you sexually harassing a minor?" the policeman stated, folding up his napkin and setting it aside, "Most certainly."

"M-minor?" the trucker faltered in his anger as disbelief and worry took the stage.

"Yep," the aforementioned minor – for the next couple weeks or so anyhow – chimed innocently, taking the opportunity to move away from the man.

"DG?" Officer Gulch inquired.

"I'm good," she replied merrily, "unless he wants to make an issue of it?" the teen added with a glance over her shoulder. The trucker shook his head in instant denial.

"Alright then," acquiesced the cop, "That your rig out there?" he asked the trucker as he scooped up his ticket book.

The man nodded warily.

"Mind if I take a look?" the policeman suggested, holding the door open for the trucker to precede him. Pausing a moment before following, Officer Gulch arched a brow at Carter. "We good?" he queried.

"Right as rain," the cafe owner agreed, nodding them out. "I'm not going to mess with Elmer's girl," he muttered as the door closed behind the duo.

DG rolled her eyes._ Idiots_.

...

Elmer Gulch pressed a few fingers to his throbbing temples; he really didn't need this right now. "Is anything missing?" he asked wearily.

"_Missing!_" Roxanne shrieked, "My car's up on cement blocks and the tires are on my trailer roof!"

_That's mildly creative_. "So nothing's missing?" he repeated.

Sucking in a breath of sheer frustration, Roxie ground out, "_No_, but so help me if you don't do something about DG this time..!"

"Do you have any proof it was her?" the cop inquired as if by rote.

"_She wiped everything down with mud!_" the woman howled.

"I'll send someone down to take a look," Officer Gulch informed her with professional courtesy, "but to be honest, I'm not even sure we have a crime to investigate even if there is evidence. Nothing's missing, it's just moved."

_"You_...ARRRRRRGHH!" Roxanne screamed, tugging at the relatively short strands of her partially re-grown hair before slamming her way out of the station.

"Was that a Code DG?" rookie James Bentley, their newest recruit, demanded with interest as he peered out from the office he'd been hiding in.

"No," Elmer replied slowly, "that, I think, was a thank you card."'

James blinked. "I think I prefer mine on paper," he opined.

"Yeah, well, DG has strange ideas."

"Thought you couldn't prove it was her," Bentley pointed out.

"I can't," the hometown cop confirmed, "should never have lent her my forensic textbooks," he mused, "I think we're going to have to have a talk..."

"How come I never get to go on Code DGs?" the rookie inquired wistfully leafing through the drawer specifically dedicated to the town's worst troublemaker.

"Because the chief doesn't want you killed in action or out on stress leave before you've been here at least a year," Elmer informed him drily, kicking the drawer shut, "but if you really need something to do that bad, how about checking out Roxanne's complaint."

"Aw, man," James griped, "that woman is _ugly_ when she's angry."

...

DG smiled with content. Her college fund savings were growing, Roxie had been storming about in a fury, she was finally getting a hang of her new job, and she was almost never late anymore. Mostly.

"Guy on four asked for you specially," Carmen told her, handing her a slice of French apple with a chunk of cheddar.

"Oh come on!" DG yelled, causing Officer Gulch to burst into laughter over the ticket he was writing.

...

The cop eye's twinkled with amusement as the teenager set the pie down in front of him with exaggerated courtesy and accepted her speeding ticket. It was a nice perk of DG's job that she was now tied down to a certain location for at least a few hours of the week, made it so much easier to keep track of her. Chuckling over the teen's impotent rage, Elmer took a huge bite of much anticipated pie, only to spew it right back out again as the Tabasco sauce DG had laced it with immediately set his tongue on fire.

Across the diner the teen waitress crowed with triumph.

...

Newly eighteen year old DG sat down on the bar stool with a feeling of smug accomplishment. She may not be of legal drinking age just yet but that's what fake ID's were for, she had a bet to win. Successfully ordering a beer, the teenager silently toasted her victory over the soon to be unfortunate Bobby Gibbons. _Mock her counterfeiting skills would he_, she thought, admiring the detailed work on the fake driver's license proclaiming her to be twenty-one.

Then a familiar hand reached down and plucked it out of her grip. "That's mildly illegal," Officer Gulch commented, taking the seat beside her and pocketing the ID.

"Oh come on," the teenager whined, "it's my birthday; you're not going to arrest me on my birthday are you?"

"Not in the least," the cop replied easily, "I'm off duty."

"Hey!" DG protested as he took her beer.

"You're too young to drink," he pointed out, taking a contented sip of the confiscated beverage.

Eyes narrowing in irritation, the eighteen year old growled, "What are you doing here anyhow? Are you stalking me?"

"Nope," the policeman replied urbanely, "I'm meeting some fellow cops for drinks later, right after they finish raiding the bar that is."

"_What?_" DG shrieked in alarm, jumping up.

"Emergency exit's right by the washrooms," Officer Gulch continued calmly, "Happy Birthday DG," he added with humour as she raced for the door.

...

Elmer Gulch was not particularly fond of paperwork, there was always too much of it and only with extreme rarity did distractions like Bobby Gibbons running by naked occur in the process of filling out forms...wait, what?

Looking up and glancing around in puzzlement, it did not appear that anyone else had noticed anything, if that was his imagination he must be having day-mares. About to set pen to paper once more, the cop's attention was caught by movement out of the corner of his eye. Bobby was back, this time he'd apparently decided to stop and dance in the window for a while.

"Does anyone else see the naked teenager?" James asked as Bobby once more scampered away.

Unfreezing from his bemused stupor, Elmer set his pen down and scooped up Bentley's rain jacket from the back of the cop's chair.

"Hey," the rookie protested.

Ignoring him, Officer Gulch managed to reach the door in time to literally clothesline the Gibbons boy coming back for another pass.

"Oof!" the teenager gasped as he hit the concrete, the policeman's jacket draped on top of him, "That hurt!" he complained.

Elmer merely raised his eyebrows in inquiry, "May I ask to what we owe this dubious pleasure?"

"Lost a bet to DG," Bobby grumbled.

"And that involved streaking past the station because...?"

"She thought it'd amuse you," the boy replied.

"Of course," the cop huffed in exasperation, "I don't even want to bother, take the jacket, bring it back when you have some clothes on, have fun trying to find them." Turning to step back into the station, he sighed, "What did I do to deserve this?"

...

DG wanted to know what she'd done to deserve this. "Come on, Officer Gulch," she pleaded, "give me a break just this once!"

The cop merely hummed noncommittally and continued writing the ticket.

"It's not even my fault! Bobby broke it last week in revenge for my hanging his boxers from the flag pole," the eighteen year old explained.

"Which is why Bobby spent a day cleaning the schoolyard," was the policeman's unyielding reply, "I gave you a whole week to get it fixed, you had plenty of time to run down to the hardware store for parts."

"Please?" she begged, eyes wide with entreaty.

"Here's your ticket, brat," he said, ripping it out and handing it to her, "driving around after dark with busted out taillights is dangerous and stupid. Get it fixed by the next time I see you or I'm impounding your bike."

DG stamped her foot and growled. He'd just declared war.

...

Elmer Gulch stared at his truck in disbelief, mild to moderate annoyance, and uneasy disapproval; she'd messed with his truck, that was getting dangerously close to crossing the line. Sighing, the cop reached into the back for his portable air tank. He was unsurprised to see that it, as well as all four tires – and the spare he noticed with increased irritation – had been completely emptied of air. At least she'd restrained herself to letting air out the valves rather than just slashing the tires – there were some things he couldn't ignore. Sighing again, he gazed across the distance to the gas station; it wasn't that far, it would just be terribly aggravating to make the trip four times just to get his truck functional again.

...

DG couldn't believe it had happened again: her alarm clock hadn't gone off, her clothes were in the wash, she had no time for breakfast, and unless a miracle occurred she was going to be fatally late for her first exam. Pushing the envelope between speeding just enough to mitigate damage on her exam time and not so fast as to guarantee being pulled over for speeding, therefore guaranteeing a fail, the eighteen year old was ready to burst into tears of frustration as she saw the police lights flashing in her review mirror. Wavering a moment between risking the cop's wrath – he hadn't been entirely impressed with her stunt with his truck tires – and giving her exam up for lost, the teenager was utterly surprised when the cruiser drew level with her and the cop within waved her onward.

Staring in disbelief as the cruiser pulled ahead of her and accelerated, DG vaguely recalled complaining to him a few weeks ago regarding the nightmare that was her exam schedule, trust Officer Gulch to remember. Smiling as she hit the gas, the teen resolved to do something nice for her personal police escort.

...

Elmer Gulch pounded his head against the desk in utter exasperation as Roxanne once more stormed out of the police station spouting swears and threats of dire vengeance. He wondered what it would take to make DG realize that infuriating Roxie wasn't really the gift the teenager imagined it to be. Sure, parking a tractor on the woman's roof was impressive, and might, under other circumstances, be hilarious, but he was the one that had to deal with the headache that was Roxanne in a fury. This had to stop, it had been kind of cute initially, but, really, it had been over two years now, enough was enough. He could not, in good conscience, allow this kind of harassment to continue.

"Another thank you card?" James Bentley inquired innocently.

"I'm going to strangle her, truly, I'm going strangely her," Elmer groaned, not bothering to lift his head off the desk, "and I'm going to enjoy every damn minute of it."

"Sure, sure," the rookie hummed absently, going back to his crossword puzzle, "Hey, what's a seven letter word for 'an opponent or rival whom a person cannot best or overcome'?"

"_Nemesis."_

...

The teenage girl stared at the cop mulishly; she couldn't believe he was taking _her_ side, after what she'd done...

"I mean it DG, it has to stop," Officer Gulch told her sternly, "It's been going on long enough; in fact, it has been going on far too long."

"Oh come on," the teen protested, "after what she did..."

"Two _years_ ago, DG," the policeman said, running his hands through his hair in frustration, "welcome to the adult world, you can't go harassing somebody's ex just because of a bad break-up, it's not right."

"I didn't see you complaining at the time!" the eighteen year old fired back.

"And I should have!" he yelled in frustration, "It was irresponsible and wrong of me to do so, and if I'd known you were going to take it as permission to hound Roxanne into the grave I would have put a stop to it right then and there. I have a duty to uphold the law and protect _all_ citizens under my jurisdiction, no matter what may have gone on in my personal life, and I've failed in that duty by letting you harass her all this time, and I've failed you, too, if I've led you to believe this kind of behaviour is okay."

"Oh _god_!" DG screamed back, "Are you listening to yourself? It's like you're possessed with the spirit of Uber Honest Copitude! You're yelling at me for avenging wrongs done two years ago, but _you're_ kicking yourself over decisions just as old. News flash: you're human, you're _allowed_ to make mistakes. News flash two: you are not responsible for the decisions of others. News flash three: if you aren't going to stand up for yourself _someone_ has to."

"Stand up for...that has nothing to do with...it's my duty-"

"If you say duty _one_ more time," DG interrupted dangerously, "I'm going affix it permanently to your backside."

"DG," Officer Gulch began...

...

Elmer spent a moment studying the wood grain of his desk. It wasn't real wood, they definitely didn't have the budget for real wood desk, just metal, pressboard and veneer. It really wasn't all that interesting, the cop sighed.

"I don't know what is more pathetic," James Bentley opined, "the fact that a man of your age is in constant battle with an eighteen year old, or the fact that you seem to be losing."

Elmer Gulch decided to ignore him.

"I've got to say, though, she is kind of cute when she's angry," the rookie persisted.

Officer Gulch rolled his eyes around to pin the young man with a glare. "No offence Bentley, you're a good kid and all, but I don't think you quite meet up to specifications," he said, "Besides, it'd be a shame for you to die so young, I'm not quite sure you'd be able to keep up with DG."

"Oh, and you can?" James queried pointedly.

"Seem to be the only one trying," he grumbled, "though what that has to do with anything..."

"Got it!" Nancy called, coming through the door waving a bag from the hardware store.

"You know," Officer Bentley mused as his co-worker sighed with relief, "that technically could be considered an assault on an officer of the law."

"I'm sure it was an accident," Elmer mumbled back in DG's defence, though the chair definitely wasn't. He was giving her the benefit of the doubt that she didn't mean to superglue his face to the desktop.

...

DG hummed as she popped the spark plugs out of the cruiser. Tossing them carefully under the wheels where they wouldn't be misplaced – because Officer Gulch would annihilate her if she lost parts from the new cruiser it had taken him years to get – but would still require the cop to get good and dirty trying to recover them, the eighteen year old wanted to see him try and go all honest cop on her now. Hard to catch her if had to rebuild the cruiser first. Some people might think that pranking the policeman again, so soon after having accidentally glued a bit more of him to the station furniture than originally intended, might be ill-advised, but the teen knew Officer Gulch. His temper was practically nonexistent and extremely finite, besides she'd warned him not to say it.

Brushing her hands in satisfaction with a job well, deciding that she'd dismantled enough to irritate but not anger, the teen turned towards her...where was her bike?

Skittering across the parking lot, the teenager looked about stupidly, as if expecting her bike to magically reappear, before some instinct prompted her to look _up_. Yup, there it was, suspended in the tree she'd parked under. Grumbling, the eighteen year old hefted herself into the branches to see what she could do about that only to make another discovery. _It was booted_. Where in the world had he gotten that?

Below her, someone let out an amused laugh.

"Truce?" DG asked Officer Gulch, glancing down to where he was leaning against the back of the cafe.

The policeman tilted his head to the side in deliberation and scratched the cheek that was still a bit red from its superglue encounter.

"I promise not to superglue you to the furniture and will even consider letting Roxanne off the hook," she added, _providing she behaves herself, of course._

Sighing, Officer Gulch muttered, "I suppose that's the best I can hope for. Alright, truce, I'll get your bike down and take the police boot off just as soon as you put my cruiser back together."

"Agreed," she crowed cheerfully, leaping down out of the tree and skipping back over to the vehicle.

"Brat," opined Officer Gulch.


	15. Menace

_Disclaimer: I admit it! I don't own it! Don't smite me!_

_Author's Note: I have been looking forward to this chapter since long before I started writing this story, figures that the ordering of the chapters should slot it right at the end. Hopefully I have managed to do this even a fraction as well as it felt in my brain. One more chapter (aka epilogue) to go._

* * *

...

Elmer Gulch stood absolutely and utterly still as the blackness crawled at the edges of his vision, every sound seemed so distant, like it was coming from a long, long way away, and what little of his mind that was still under functional control was having a very hard time comprehending them. Across the room DG swayed drunkenly, faltered and fell.

The cop had no memory of traversing the intervening distance, could track no mental decision to move, all he knew that he was on the other side of the room in time to catch her, the crowd melting – scrambling – away to allow his passage. The room was completely silent; there had been various whiny cries of 'Officer Fudd' and 'spoilsport' when the policeman had first arrived, but no longer. The old, unwanted nickname was dying a sudden and violent death, withering on the tongues of the gathered teenagers as their hindbrains informed them of something their eyes couldn't really believe: Officer Gulch wasn't here right now, someone far, far more dangerous was.

It was supposed to be your average Saturday night, busting up the usual gathering of underage drinkers, making himself the stodgy old bane of their teenage existence, ruining all the fun. And it had been, right up until the moment he'd seen DG. The nineteen year old had almost escaped his notice, so quiet she'd been, it was only because he'd been looking for her that he'd seen her stumble and shake unsteadily on her feet. If there was one thing Elmer knew, it was that you couldn't drink DG quiet, especially not this quickly. He'd given her a speeding ticket little more than an hour ago, she should have been bouncing off the ceiling, egging her peers on to join her risky and idiotic escapades, she should _not_ be wandering vacantly around the room on wavering footsteps. Which meant, the policeman deduced with the last truly rational thought he was going to have for quite some time, that someone had done something to help her along. The black rage took over.

DG slumped limply against the arm he'd thrown around her to keep her upright; her eyes were glassy as she gazed vaguely up at him, then the fury pervading the room, causing everyone there to try to press themselves into the walls and disappear, managed to penetrate her drugged state. Glazed blue eyes widened as she slurred, "Gurlsch?"

Angry tic developing in his left eye, Elmer wished, distantly, that he could answer, reassure...but he couldn't seem to remember how his vocal cords worked, couldn't figure out...blinking, he lifted his head and scanned the room, answering the insistent call of police instinct. _There._

Bobby Gibbons blanched deathly white and tried desperately to press back through the wall as the cop's cold, furious eyes settled on him. "I swear I wasn't...didn't mean to...wasn't going to," he squeaked frantically, trying to slide away, "I'm s-sorry," he shrieked in terror as something in the back of those eyes began to burn.

_Well then,_ Elmer Gulch's few remaining thoughts snarled, _don't need proof when we have a confession now do we?_ Turning towards the one dilapidated sofa, sending its occupants diving for cover, he laid DG gently down upon it. "_Watch her_," he growled to a few teens some detached part of his mind remembered as being fairly responsible, his voice so low and rumbling they wouldn't have understood him if it hadn't been obvious what he would say.

"J-just a j-j-joke," Bobby gibbered as the enraged cop turned back towards him, "H-honest officer. O-officer?" he gasped as Officer Gulch stalked forward, his movements contained, predatory, like a big mother bear protecting her young. The boy backpedalled desperately, his peers leaping away as if contact would bring them, too, within that deadly radar.

Elmer took another step forward; Bobby tumbled headlong down the stairs he'd forgotten were behind him. The teenager had already scrambled back to his feet by the time the cop reached the top of the staircase; running blindly in panic, the boy crashed through a door and went bouncing down the next set of stairs into the basement of the abandoned farmhouse. Above him the sound of steady, inexorable footsteps drew ever closer. Clambering to his feet once more, Bobby stumbled through the basement and threw himself up the far steps to hurl himself against the old cellar door. The basement stairs creaked under the policeman's weight as the teenager's frenzied efforts succeeded in splintering the wooden frame. Almost crying with relief, Bobby crawled out of the house and sprinted off into the night, knowing full well that a hound of hell _was_ after him.

The cop took two steps out of the farmhouse and stopped as suddenly as guard dog coming to the end of its chain. A deep, dark, wrathful part of him wanted to chase the boy down, the one that _dared_...but he couldn't do that without leaving DG behind with only drunken teenagers to watch her. Not happening.

No one dared breathe a word when Elmer re-entered the room. DG was exactly where he'd left her, safe and sound – the danger had mostly been hypothetical anyhow, but the teens had been so cowed by the cop's fury that an army could have come for her and they wouldn't have dared hand her over. Lifting her with infinite care, the policeman manoeuvred his way slowly through the house and out to where his cruiser sat waiting. Missy Spencer appeared suddenly at his elbow, opening the door with a grave face and backing cautiously away. Setting DG gently down in the passenger seat and carefully buckling her in, the cop brushed the hair tenderly out her face before straightening and quietly closing the door.

"Thanks Missy," he managed to utter before storming around to slide into the driver's seat. Breathing deeply for a few moments, he reached out for the radio and rumbled, "Bentley."

There was a long crackling pause and then a hesitant reply, "Elmer?"

"Bobby Gibbons is currently running home, make sure that he gets there would you," Officer Gulch ground out.

"Sure, I'm in that area, what...oh wait, I see him. Jeepers, what does he think there's demons after him? Do you want me to give him a lift?"

"No," Elmer responded with just a hint of a snarl, "let'im run."

There was another pause. "Elmer," James asked warily, "did something happen?"

"That little fu...rrrrrrrdgehead slipped something into DG's drink," he replied, growling once more, "I don't know what but she can hardly even keep her eyes open."

A very long pause followed this pronouncement. "You know what," Bentley announced over the radio, "I don't think he's running fast enough."

"Just make sure his mother knows what he's been up to."

"Shelly will feed him his own balls for breakfast," the rookie agreed with dour cheer as the sound of a revving engine roared in the background.

Elmer merely grunted and tossed the radio aside in order to insert the keys into the ignition with shaking hands.

DG slid down sideways, coming rest on the cop's shoulder. "Elmerrrr Gulsch isha menacesh," she mumbled groggily, "bu' 'e's my menacesh."

"Shh," he murmured back, wrapping an arm around the girl to settle her comfortably.

A hush settled over the over the waiting room the moment the grim policeman strode into the emergency department with the nineteen year old nestled in his arms. It was well that unconscious people had priority anyhow as none of the nurses would have dared tell him to wait. The triage nurse was grabbing a doctor before he'd made it halfway across the room while Friendly Fred, passing through on a coffee break, grabbed the phone to call Emily. They'd all had DG's paperwork memorized for years, so the only question they needed answered was: what happened this time? The doctor later swore he'd felt a shiver run down his spine at the way Officer Gulch's eyes had blazed when he answered.

Three days later the cop was still glowering fit to send the local populace scrambling to safety as he ran down the old dirt road, his lungs burning, his muscle screaming as he pushed himself relentlessly, refusing to slow or stop. Bobby Gibbons had looked so terrified, so _young_ when his mother had hauled him into the police station to face Elmer's – not the law's – retribution. Guilt had begun to sting at the obvious fear he'd instilled in the boy – he should _not_ be terrifying the local kids – but it had had a hard time beating back the rising anger on learning that the whole thing had been a brainless attempt at one-upmanship in Bobby and DG's never ending battle. Never mind that the drugs themselves had been potentially dangerous, to rob her ability to defend herself, to leave her utterly vulnerable for a mere _prank_...he wondered if Shelly Gibbons had any idea how close her son had come to annihilation.

Then, of course, he'd remembered – vaguely – how all of the teens at party had shrunk away from him, how kids he had known all their lives were now gun-shy around him as if they actually thought he might harm them. Elmer had had to ask Shelly to give him time to think up a suitable punishment, he couldn't think straight then, he had been in too much of a snarly mess of guilt and rage, he still was. Running down the gravel road, the sky dark and cloudy and perfectly reflecting his mood, the cop couldn't move himself past the conscientious guilt for rage he couldn't make himself regret feeling...

...and then DG roared past on her motorbike, steering expertly through a puddle, splashing a deluge of cold, muddy rain water all over him. Spluttering in shock, the policeman dashed a hand across his eyes to clear his vision just in time to see her wave cheekily back at him before hitting the gas, spitting gravel as she gunned it down the road. She wasn't supposed to be driving...she was speeding...she...

"Dammit brat!" he grumbled, taking off in pursuit. She was long gone but it wasn't like he didn't know where she'd be.

Every conversation in the cafe cut off abruptly as the sodden cop clomped through the door. Always nice to know everyone was talking about you. Ignoring them, Elmer pinned the passing waitress with a glare and stated, "You aren't supposed to be driving."

"Somebody's feeling better," DG chirped back as she handed out menus.

"The doctor told you not to operate any machinery for at least a week until you could be sure there are no after effects."

"Doubtless the cold shower was good for you," the nineteen year old declared brushing past to go behind the counter, "I knew it would be."

"Well, looks like there was no harm done at any rate," the policeman remarked, just a touch acidly.

"Here's your pie," the troublemaking imp grinned at him, shoving him towards a table and setting the French apple with a slice of cheddar down in front of him.

"How long's your shift?"

"Four hours, off at two," the teen responded, quirking an eyebrow.

Nodding, Elmer said, "I'll run back for my truck, pick you and your bike up then. You're not supposed to be driving," he added as she rolled her eyes at him.

DG huffed, "Knight in shining armour one day, big growly momma bear the next. You know, I bet somewhere there's a damsel in distress just dying to meet you."

"Yeah, well, until a certain distressing damsel finds her bullet proof knight I'm afraid I'm all booked up," the cop muttered.

Giggling, the teenager leaned forward and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Thank you," she told him sweetly.

"Gah!" the policeman opined emphatically.

"I'd have given you a hug instead but you're soaking wet," DG explained.

"Gee, I wonder why," he stated dryly.

Laughing again, the teen plunked herself down in the opposing seat and asked, "So, watcha gonna do about Bobby?"

"Well," he drawled, a martial light in his eyes, "I have a few ideas, but I'm open to suggestions..."


	16. Funeral

_Disclaimer: Dis I'd like to claim, but can't. grrrr_

_Author's Note: Quality Control is of the opinion that Officer Gulch's eventual death certificate will read: Cause of Death: DG; I am of the opinion that CoD: Princesses is more accurate. This actually has nothing to do with this chapter/epilogue, or at least not much, but, hey, it's a valid point._

* * *

...

Elmer Gulch stared dully into the mirror as he slowly straightened his tie with deceptively steady hands. DG'd given it to him, an apology for using one of his old ones to test out the new paper shredder at the station. He'd been lucky it hadn't strangled him, she'd been lucky he hadn't strangled _her._ She'd been what, ten at the time and driving him crazy while Emily ran some errands. Knee deep in trouble as always...as always...his hand trembled a bit as he finished tightening the knot, taking a deep breath to steady himself, the cop reached for the suit jacket slung over an nearby chair and settled it into place over aching, bone-weary shoulders. It was time to go.

He took the cruiser, it seemed right somehow, though he was driving far slower than he could ever remember doing where the brat was concerned, but the truth was, he didn't want to get there. Because then it would be real. Final. Gone.

A month ago he'd been standing on his front step of his home, watching a tornado rip through the fields far too close to the old Gale place for comfort. He _should_ have been down in his basement like any sensible man under the circumstances, but his shoulder blades had been twitching like crazy – DG had been growing increasingly restless of late and he'd had the irrational urge to drive over and demand whether she'd done something to cause the freak storm. Common sense had eventually prevailed, there wasn't anything he could do against a tornado after all, though he hadn't been able to sleep all night, and then in the morning...

The school parking lot was overflowing with cars. It was not the best of locations, but the gymnasium was the only place big enough to hold a memorial service of this size...the policeman parked in front of the fire hydrant and couldn't summon the energy to care. Staring blankly at the old building, the cop took another steadying breath and forced himself to get out of the car.

Elmer – and the rest of the town – had dropped everything to search for the family, scouring the fields by day, calling all the hospitals within a hundred mile radius at night. Twice a concerned nurse on the other end of the line had sent one of his fellow cops over to check on him when he'd passed out from sheer exhaustion mid conversation. He'd bumped it up to a two hundred mile radius by the end of the first week, even though the storm had been so short-lived there was no way they could have been blown that far. As one week bled into two, the cop stared at the phone for hours before finally picking up the receiver and, with shaking, reluctant fingers, started calling morgues.

His dress shoes scuffed the gravel as he trudged across the parking lot. Little knots of gathered mourners fell silent as he passed. Distantly, he noticed Farmer Spencer open his mouth only to close it again, unable to think of anything to say.

The town had stopped looking long before Elmer Gulch had been willing to give up – stopped looking for survivors, stopped looking for bodies. Hank's truck had been flung into one of the trees behind the house, DG's motorcycle had been tucked safely away in one of the back sheds, so they knew that the family hadn't just gone on a trip and forgotten to tell anyone about it. That whole first week Elmer's shoulders had twitched like he'd known DG was off getting herself into to trouble, if he could just figure out where. Even after he'd given up hope, even after he'd known she must...even _then_ it had taken what was darn closed to an intervention from his fellow officers to get him to stop looking. He'd even torn up the cover of that old well on Robert Gibbons' place, just to see whether, impossibly, she'd somehow managed to fall in it again. He'd been desperate by then because, _dammit_, the imp deserved better than to be left lying in a ditch somewhere.

Every bone in his body seemed to creak with the centuries of age he felt settling on his shoulders as he sank down into a seat in the front row. He didn't think anyone would mind – not that he'd move if they did – after he'd finished calling morgues he'd tried to track down her extended family, but not a relative – long lost or otherwise – did he find. Nor any previous addresses, it was almost as if they'd magically appeared during that rodeo fifteen years ago as suddenly as they'd vanished. No matter where Elmer had looked, there had been nothing to find.

He spent the memorial service staring at the enlarged photos someone had set up on the old school stage, wondering what idiot had chosen that particular picture. DG's grad portrait had been all that was poised and professional, and absolutely lacking in any of the spirit and life that had been DG. They'd have done better to use that old newspaper clipping of her class camping trip. Sure it was a few years old, but the image of the Mistress of Mayhem sitting calmly poking the fire to life while the rest of the camp – and her unfortunate classmates – lay in shambles was so much truer to life.

The wake was held in the cafeteria, pockets of subdued laughter cut through the murmur of voices as everyone shared memories, relived their favourite disasters. Elmer stood quietly off to the side, staring at the French apple pie someone had brought, the pie he'd always ordered to let DG know he'd caught her. Even now he wanted to write her a ticket for speeding through life too damn fast. A movement in the corner of his eye caused him to look up into the tear filled face of Maggie Spencer; he remembered wondering once, years ago on the day of his parent's funeral, what it felt like to have your lifelong nemesis die. He thought knew. Unable to stay there a moment longer, the cop turned without saying a word and walked away.

James Bentley found him an hour later, sitting on the platform that rimmed the old water tower – _you hava offisher up_ – staring into the distance and letting the memories wash over him. The boy came bearing beer and a complete unwillingness to leave his fellow cop alone. Elmer could understand how grieving person sitting in high places had the tendency to make people nervous, but beer, DG and the water tower had never been a good combination, and sometimes a person just wanted to be left to grieve in _private_. So he'd slid down the ladder intent on finding somewhere else to mourn, only to have James follow insistently after him. Bentley got the point, however, when Elmer pulled out the pocket knife he'd automatically carried with him and rammed it in his front truck tire. Officer Gulch might consider apologizing for that someday; Elmer Gulch didn't give a fuck.

He spent a lot of time walking about over the next few weeks, he'd always had the propensity to wander when thinking, only now he had a tendency to gravitate to the river, or to the Spencer's bullpen, or out to the old Gale place. Terror was given a new name for young Tim Beckley the day the idiot adolescent decided that the disappearance of its owner meant that DG's beloved motorcycle was fair game for a joyride. It had taken three men to keep Elmer Gulch off the boy, and in the end Officer Bentley had had to take charge of the kid when his co-worker's only idea of a punishment was a firing squad. The motorcycle had been returned to the shed, gassed up and sparkling clean.

The days bled together, and slowly, ever so slowly, the grieving cop got his feet back under him. His temper settled down, his shoulders didn't twitch quite so often, the hushed whispers and wary glances began to ease back into quiet concern, and then into familiar acknowledgement. Elmer found his way back to his old routine, or rather his old old routine, the routine he'd barely had time to settle into before insanity had descended on their little farm town. Life moved on until, finally, he found himself parking his cruiser in the same old spot, resigning himself to the shades of gray, wondering if being a small town cop had always been this boring...

...and DG went speeding past on her motorcycle.

Every muscle in the policeman's body froze as he sat there for an eternity, staring after her in absolute stunned silence before, with a shuddering ripple, the world put itself back in order. Tires squealing, old accustomed imprecations being muttered under his breath, the cop took off in pursuit, settling back into the much preferred old routine with something akin to relief, yet so much more profound. DG was moving like a bat out of hell but Elmer Gulch was hot on her trail. There were questions he wanted answered. He wanted to know where her family had been this past year; he wanted to know why they'd never told anyone they were ok; he wanted to give her a ticket...


End file.
